


Piano Black

by beyond_the_nights_world



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Always Keep Fighting, Angst, Blow Jobs, Bottom Castiel, Coming In Pants, Dean crying, Domestic Fluff, Fallen Angels, Family Reunion, Flashbacks, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Hallucination Castiel, Jealous Dean, Kissing, Love Confession, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sad Castiel, Sam and Mary are shipping it, Self-Harm, Sleeping Outside, Top Dean, Topping from the Bottom, Worried Dean, abandoned house, castiel feels exchangable, castiel piano playing, chuck - Freeform, much talking about the past, naked swimming, secret chamber, shadows of the past, so much feelings, thunderstorm, wing prints
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-09-21 15:39:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 36,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9555359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beyond_the_nights_world/pseuds/beyond_the_nights_world
Summary: Cas always says he had to do heaven business.Dean doesn't believe him, so he followed the angel to an abandoned house.





	1. When I am here I can forget

Dean followed Cas down the road, enough space between them to avoid being caught. He wanted to know what the angel was doing when he said he had to go. Dean didn't believe it was just heaven business. He trusted Cas, but he felt that there was something going on.  
  
Dean pursued Cas for more than half an hour, driving until they were nearly out of town.

Suddenly, Cas steered the Continental into the driveway of an old house. The kind of building Dean normally hunted ghosts in.  
  
Slowly, Dean approached the house and took a look out of the window of Baby. He saw Cas leaving his car. He moved slowly up the few stairs and after a second of looking around, he disappeared inside the house.  
  
Dean stayed in his car for some minutes, observing the house quietly. It was a very old building, reminding Dean a bit of the Bates Motel. The house was surrounded by an overgrown garden with old trees, hatches and briers.  
  
The hunter was no architect, but even he knew that this house was old... very old. Shutters were hanging brittle in front of milky windows. The outer veneer was covered with ivy. The rail which surrounded the porch was broken and splintered.  
  
What the hell was Cas doing here? It was impossible that someone was living in that ruin, living in a house which looked like it would crumble in the next storm.  
  
Maybe it was haunted and Cas was trying to hunt a ghost down? Dean got out of the car and crept over to the fence. Without making a noise, he shoved himself through the garden gate and headed to the entrance of the house.  
  
Fitting this situation he was stuck in right now, it started to rain cats and dogs and thunder rolled afar. With every step closer to the house, it appeared more impressive. The former owner of this building must have been rich, Dean thought, when he took a closer look.  
  
  
With a slow motion, Dean grabbed his colt and listened. He heard the traffic from the near main street, the rolling thunder, the pouring rain and his own steady breath. Nothing else. The door in front of him wasn't locked, just slightly ajar. He raised his weapon in front of him and entered the house carefully.  
  
It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Dust danced in the air and Dean had to hold back a sneeze.  
  
The hallway was empty except for the salt on the ground and the red protection sigils on the walls. Pentagrams, banishing sigils, enochian symbols, obviously all painted by Cas.  
  
Dean moved on, tensed up ‘til the tip of his hairs. He was inside old buildings often enough to know that there could be a monster around every corner.  
  
But nothing happened. The house stayed ghost free. There was no cold chill in the air, just old stale and dusty air. No flickering light, no whispering voices. Dean moved on, took a look into one of the adjacent rooms. Isolated furniture stood around, covered with white sheets to save them from whatever.  
  
The hunter had nearly reached the end of the hallway when he noticed something strange. Soft music was hanging in the air and it wasn't coming out of a radio. It sounded handmade, soft. Someone was playing a piano.  
  
He followed the sound into a niche where a door lead into another room. The door was ajar as well, as if someone wasn't worried that he could be found inside.  
  
Dean noticed the flickering warm light of candles. He moved closer to the door as silent as he could and cast a glance into the room.  
  
A silver candleholder stood on the floor and on a low board. A black piano, as old as the house, stood in the middle of the room.  
  
Dean blinked once… twice. This must have been a hallucination. Castiel sat in front of the piano on a small bench. His hands rested on the black and white tiles, coaxing soft tones from the old instrument.  
  
The trench coat and the suit jacket lied on the floor. To Dean, Cas nearly seemed naked with only his white shirt on. He hadn't seen Cas without his “armor” often and now, without the coat and the jacket, he looked kinda lost and vulnerable.  
  
Dean leaned in to get a better look at the room. He felt curious and annoyed at the same time. Cas must have had a reason for coming here without telling him or Sam, and Dean didn't want to disturb this privacy.  
  
He thought about leaving, maybe he could find a way to talk about this with Cas later on. He wanted to go, but he felt glued to the floor and the picture in front of him was mesmerizing.  
  
Castiel seemed totally lost in what he was doing.  
  
He was moving softly to the melody he was playing. Sometimes he leaned in as if he wanted to rest his head on the black surface of the piano. Then, other times, his head fell back, his face turned to the ceiling as if he was praying to something up above.  
  
He was dipped in the warm candlelight, smooth and glowing.  
  
Dean didn't know why he wasn't going. Instead he opened the door. The wood scratched over the floor and the hinges were squeaking.  
  
Cas turned around immediately, his hand sprung to the angel blade which was resting on top of the piano.  
  
“Dean?”  
  
Castiel's face was twisted in shock.  
  
He looked caught. Like someone who did something illegal.  
  
“Cas?”  
  
Dean looked around as he entered the room.  
  
It was bigger than thought, with windows from the ceiling to the floor, covered with curtains made of light gauze. Sheets of music was spread all over the floor. A couch with a pillow and a blanked stood next to the windows.   
  
“What are you doing here?”  
  
Cas got up and was now sorting the sheets. He looked to Dean and the hunter could see that the angel was hurt.  
  
“Why didn't you tell us? That doesn't look like heaven business.”  
  
Cas shrugged, avoiding Dean's gaze. “Who cares?” he said and his voice defeated and sad. He looked at the floor in front of him while his fingers caressed the black paint of the instrument.  
  
“What is that supposed to mean?”  
  
Cas turned around, leaning against the piano. His gaze wandered around nervously, as if he was trying to find words for what he was doing here.  
  
“I am exchangeable”, he said after a moment. “A small unnecessary gear in the whole machinery. You and Sam, you are the important ones. You know... the role I play, it could be played by anyone else, and they would do it even better than I could ever have done. You must have seen how often I’ve failed... and failed... again and again… and again.”  
  
He turned around again. Both arms now resting on top of the piano.  
  
“When I’m here... I can forget. For a few hours it doesn't feel like I don’t belong to this world...to you...”  
  
“Cas,” Dean started, his voice trembling. He took a step, but Cas just raised his hand and shook his head. He stepped around the piano and sat down on the couch.  
  
“It's okay. Dean. Don't worry about me.”  
  
He rested his elbows on his knees, starting to rub his hands together.  
  
“Nothing is okay, Cas”, Dean nearly yelled at him.  
  
He closed the gap between them with a few steps and nearly fell to his knees in front of the angel. His hands covered the trembling ones in front of him.  
  
“How could you think that, Cas?”  
  
Cas wanted to withdraw his hands, but Dean held them even harder, breathing a short kiss on his knuckles.  
  
“I... I had a mission. And.. whatever I am doing… it's getting worse. The Leviathan, Lucifer.... Kevin... Charlie... I..”  
  
Cas dropped his gaze, sighing lightly.  
  
“Shhh. Don't talk about yourself like that.”  
  
Dean released Cas hands. Instead, he grabbed Castiel's face, forcing the angel to look at him.  
  
“It is okay to make mistakes. We all have made mistakes and it doesn't diminish your worth. On the contrary, it shows how strong someone is, that he kept going on.”  
  
For a moment Cas seemed to consider the words, then stood abruptly.  
  
“Don't do that Dean. Don't say things you don't mean, just to please me.”  
  
He paced through the room until he was next to the piano again. His gaze wandered to the silvery angel blade on top.  
  
Cas fingertips grazed the cold metal, then he shook his head again and moved to the big window front. He pulled the curtain aside and opened the windows. A cold breeze floated in, making the curtains wave.  
  
The candles flickered before they went out. The sun was rising outside. The rain was still pattering to the ground and the sound of thunder had become louder.  
  
Cas took a step out on the porch, which apparently surrounded the whole building. He looked into the garden.  
  
“You should go, Dean”, he said, so silently, that Dean hardly understood a word.  
  
  
  
This was one of those moments Dean had been afraid for his entire life. He felt a knot inside his stomach tighten and his throat was suddenly rough. His life was always full of losses. His parents, Bobby, Benny... Sam...  
  
He how it felt to lose someone important to him and this feeling was terrible, an overwhelming pain and crushing helplessness.  
  
Cas stood there, his silhouette contrasted with the gray light of the thunderstorm outside. His whole posture looked defeated, as if the weight of the whole world rested on his shoulders.  
  
Dean was losing him and if he couldn’t find the right words, right gestures, Castiel would be gone.  
  
The angel hadn't said he would leave, but it was obvious.  
  
Dean felt his heart beating hard against his ribs as he slowly walked over to Cas. An arms length away he stopped.  
  
“I won't go,” he started. His voice was trembling, sounding weaker than he wanted it to sound. What should he tell him, that he would be fine? How should he choose his words?  
  
“Listen, Cas. The day, before we defeated the darkness. We drove with Baby into town, bought some beer. I... I told you something. I said you were like a brother to me.” He felt panic rising inside his body. His true feelings would be revealed and Dean didn't know what consequences this might have.  
  
“That wasn't the truth...”  
  
Castiel turned around, confirmation on his face. He wanted to be thankful, that Dean was now telling the truth, but it felt like someone stabbed the angle blade right inside his heart. Not even a brother?  
  
“You are more to me, Cas. You... mean everything to me. I should have told you.... long ago...” His voice broke and Dean realized that it wasn't the blown rain which ran down his cheeks.  
  
Castiel’s face changed. His eyes growing wide and he shook his head in disbelief.  
  
“What... what are you telling me?” he asked. He tilted his head, trying to sense the lies coming out of Dean's mouth, but the only thing he could feel was the warmth of unconditional honesty.  
  
“Dean... what... I don't understand.”  
  
Dean looked up, facing Cas. He could see the dark shadows under blue eyes.  
  
“I am so sorry, so sorry. I should have told you earlier.”  
  
Dean shook his head. Cas was feeling alone, expendable and Dean hadn't realized because he was too engaged in hiding his true feelings.  
  
“Dean?”  
  
The way Cas accentuated his name made Dean shiver more than he already did. It was a question, pleading, begging for answers, for truth.  
  
“I’ve pushed you away because I was afraid. Afraid of being too close to you. Afraid that if I indulged in you, I would lose you. I have always lost the ones I love and that scares me. So I kicked you out of my life, built a wall around me, and I sit inside this wall and my only wish is that you would come and break it down.”  
  
Dean wet his lips with his tongue, took a deep breath to calm him.  
  
“I am the one who isn't worth it. I saw your gaze, felt your worries about this profound bound we have. I feel it every fucking day... and inside I crave you... always you.  
  
“The whole time I felt like I am not in your league. You and your boundless kindness, this beautiful celestial soul... and I... broken, doomed. I wanted you so much... and I still want you... I... I...” he stumbled with a broken voice.  
  
Cas didn't move. He looked at Dean, confused and carried away by his words.  
  
“This is...” he began unable to find the right answer. Did Dean really make something like a love confession? Was this, what he had heard, real and not just a bad dream?  
  
He closed his eyes, sensing again.  
  
Dean's soul was radiating, shining in the brightest colors he had ever seen. A relieved smile flashed over Cas' face.  
  
“Dean,” he whispered. This time not a question, but an answer.  
  
This time he was the one who closed the gap between them.  
  
“I saw your soul,” he smiled, pulling Dean into an embrace, “so bright, shattered into pieces, but bright as a first day on earth,” he breathed, nuzzling his face into the crook of Dean's neck.  
  
“I am so sorry, Cas. What I have done to you is...”  
  
“All you have done is leading to this here...  that means all to me.”  
  
“Please... let’s stop running, Cas.”  
  
Dean wrapped his arms around the body of the angel, pulling him as close as he could. He felt his warmth through the rain-wet shirt, felt Cas’ breath against his neck, his hands on his back. A piece of paper wouldn’t fit between them, but it wasn't close enough.

  
Dean felt like a sponge, sucking in all the feelings, all the warmth of the angel... his angel...  
  
Too many years wasted... too much pain caused.  
  
Cas was moving in the embrace until he was facing Dean. It was dark in the room; just the scattered flashes of lighting lighten up the room infrequently. But Dean could still see the blue of Cas' eyes. Just a few inches in front of him.  
  
He wanted this so much, and now he was so petrified by all that had happened that he didn't know what to do.  
  
Cas was braver. He leaned in... slowly, checking out the situation.  
  
When the warm lips of the angel made the first contact with Dean's, he felt as though he would pass out by the rush of emotions floating through his body.  
  
This was right. This was what he’s needed for so long.

 

 


	2. Song of myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hunter and the angel are realizing that there is so much they had to work out.

“Cas,” Dean whispered, breaking the kiss. He felt Cas' hands searching for his, fingers interlacing.  
  
Dean closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against Cas'. The angel smelled like rain, like a promise to something Dean was always waiting for without even knowing.  
  
“This is,” he inhaled deeply, “wow. I... don’t even have a word for it right now.”  
  
His thoughts were incoherent. Too many things in his head wanted to be in the foreground at the same time. He felt a bit dizzy and embarrassed that he was an emotional idiot right now.  
  
He was easy going with every girl he snagged at a bar. Even in the relationships he had, he had felt more secure, more confident. He never had to think about what he should do.  
  
“What is it?” Cas asked carefully, nudging Dean's nose with his own.  
  
The hunter hemmed and hawed, squeezing Cas' hands, as if he needed the hold to steady himself.  
  
“Dunno what to do now,” he said honestly, copying Cas' slow motions.  
  
“What do you want?”  
  
Dean opened his eyes again, Cas’ dark blue pupils right in front of him. So close...  
  
“Can we just be close? I just want you next to me. Does that sound stupid?”  
  
Cas chuckled, pushing Dean slowly towards the couch next to the windows until his calves met the cushion.  
  
“I want this, too,” he said with a smile, slipping out of his shoes and the wet shirt. Dean did the same. His hands were shaking as he loosened the shoe laces and kicked his boots off his feet.  
  
They laid down on the couch, Dean first, Cas half at his side, half on top of him. Awkwardly, Cas pulled the blanket over them and snuggled against the hunter, his head on resting on Dean's chest.  
  
Dean wrapped his arms around the angel, pulling him closer.  
  
“That's it,” he whispered, more to himself then to Cas.  
  
The angel was radiating a comfortable warmth and his skin was smooth under Dean's fingers.  
  
If someone would’ve tell him that this was the way he had to spend his time until the end of days, Dean wouldn’t have objections.  
  
Rain was drumming on the roof of the porch, a steady, natural beat. The summer lightning was visible, but no thunder appeared and gusts of wind breezed into the room, making the curtains dance like the pale ghost of a ballerina.  
  
Dean’s peace was interrupted by a soft snore and he tilted his head to look at Cas. He had fallen asleep straight away. It was kind of a compliment, that Cas felt safe enough to let go; Safe enough in the arms of the guy that probably hurt him the most. Normally, angel’s didn't need to sleep. Their grace at full power kept them alive, regenerated them. Eating, drinking, and sleeping wasn't necessary.  
  
The hard fight against Amara and being a vessel for Lucifer still seemed to have an effect on Castiel.  
  
Dean slowly shifted a tiny bit so that his hand could reach the dark hair of the angel. He slowly stroked through his hair while he caressed the soft strands gently, as to not wake him up. Dean's thoughts wandered back.  
  
He could remember the moment he first saw Castiel.  
  
The old barn where he wanted to meet the creature who had followed him, tortured him with this jarring sound.  
  
He and Bobby had shielded the whole building, but Castiel walked in under a firework of exploding bulbs,as if he had never heard of a warding sigil.  
  
He was an asshole, Dean had thought. Yeah, he had gripped him tight and raised him from perdition, but he was an angel. One of those heavenly puppets. Stiff and worldly innocent.  
  
Dean looked down at Cas, who still was sleeping. His hand was curled in Dean's shirt as a silent plead not to leave him again.  
  
“I was so wrong,” Dean thought.  
  
Castiel might have been once a warrior of the Lord, the executive power of God, but in his heart, he was a rebel. Scrutinizing orders and decisions.  
  
Maybe he had lost some of his angelic power, but he won something no other angel has ever had. Feelings. Humanity. Compassion.  
  
Too much heart was always Castiel's problem, Samandriel had once said and Dean now knew its true meaning.  
  
How often had Castiel risked his own life to save Dean?  
  
The hunter tried to count, only to surrender when he realized that it was too often.  
  
Castiel had always come when he’d called. Castiel had been there...always.  
  
“Stop thinking, Dean.” Cas’ warm baritone reverberated from his chest. “You should sleep as well.”  
  
Dean shook his head, twisting absently a dark strand between his fingers.  
  
“I can't...”  
  
Castiel sat up to face Dean.  
  
“What bothers you? If I can fix it...”  
  
There he was again... the one who wanted to help, who wanted to make Dean feel good, although he should be the one who was cared about.  
  
Dean raised his hands, cupping the angelic face to pull him into a kiss.  
  
“I thought about you, about the first time we met in that barn...”  
  
“It wasn't the first time... I dragged you out of hell, but you have lost the memory of it.”  
  
Castiel chuckled, flickering with his tongue over Dean's soft lips.  
  
“Tell me about it... everything...”  
  
The angel closed his eyes, kissed Dean again.  
  
“It was dangerous,” he said calmly, his voice sounding as though he was talking about a summer weekend trip.  
  
“Creatures of heaven are not welcomed in the depths of hell. There is heaven and there is hell and the fight between them should not happen in one of their places.”  
  
“Oh, really. Never realized that,” Dean drawled. He knew they always had taken the earth as their battlefield to keep their own homes clean.  
  
“Hell is a strange place. Different to everyone. To me...,” he sighed deeply, shivering due to the memory. “... it was a labyrinth. The walls built out of souls, we... I couldn't save. Arms reaching for me, scared voices whispering my name, begging for salvation. Then I found you...” A smile spread across his face.  
  
“How?”  
  
“Your soul... the closer I came, the more it started to glow... like a beacon. When I reached you, you tried to fight back.”  
  
His voice dropped and while going on, he looked absently on the place where Dean's hand print had been.  
  
“I put my hand on your shoulder and dragged you out. It wasn't simple. The demons and knights of hell tried to capture us and I nearly didn't make it...”  
  
His hand slipped under the short sleeve of Dean' shirt and he rested his palm on the place the print was. Dean felt a sudden warmth floating through his shoulder muscles.  
  
“Back on earth, I healed your wounds, merged your broken pieces. Put everything back together until you were fully restored again.”  
  
“Why you?”  
  
“Because, I wanted to. I thought it was right and I felt it was my purpose. My father didn't choose me, I volunteered.”  
  
He raised his hand to touch Dean's face, and the hunter nestled his cheek in Castiel's palm.  
  
“And I’ll never regret it.”  
  
Cas stroked his thumb from Dean's nose to his temple before he slowly moved to the hunter's forehead.  
  
“Now sleep a bit. There is enough time tomorrow,” he whispered.  
  
Dean wanted to answer. A soft tingle inside his head kept him quiet. His lids got heavy and the caressing arms of sleep took him in a warm embrace.  
  
___________  
  
It was just a shade that penetrates Dean's mind. A soft sound, sweet and blue at the same time.  
  
At first, Dean thought it was part of the dreams he’d had, but when he opened his eyes, slowly, he realized that the sound belonged to reality.  
  
The hunter stayed silent, letting the tune wash over him. He knew that it was Cas as he played the piano again. The weight on his body was gone and the warmth that had surrounded him, together with the scent of him, had faded.  
  
It was still raining outside. The rhythm of the falling drops fused with the chords to make a wonderful melody. The rain wasn't as heavy as the night before, no thunderstorm, just a mild summer rain. It was dawning again.  
  
The room was dipped in a blueish-gray light, forming mild shadows in the corners. Dean slowly turned his head to look at Castiel. The angel sat slightly lateral on the small piano bench, his left arm loosely resting on the top of the piano. With his right hand Cas was playing the soft melody.  
  
He was just wearing the suit-trousers, like the evening before. The diffused light painted a soft glow on his bare back, a holy, silvery shine, like a celestial halo.  
  
The angel seemed to be lost in thought. His gaze was absent, a small smile on his face.  
  
Calmly, Dean got up and moved over to Castiel. The floor was cool under his shoeless feet and the air blowing in through the still open window was brisk. With every step, the old floorboards creaked, but Castiel didn't react until Dean gingerly touched his shoulder.  
  
“You stunned me?”  
  
Cas looked up, an apologizing smile on his face.  
  
“You needed the sleep. Your mind was racing and your thoughts had been so loud and exhausting. I’m sorry.”  
  
Dean nodded, responding the smile. Then he sat next to Cas on the small bench. His gaze rested on the slender fingers which danced over the tiles.  
  
“I didn't know angels played piano.”  
  
“It was Jimmy,” Cas answered, “sometimes he played the piano in his Church. When his soul went to heaven, shadows of his talents and abilities were imprinted inside me. I never used them, because there was no need, but playing the piano is something... it's calming.”  
  
“Does this song have a name or lyrics?”  
  
Dean didn't know the melody, but that wasn't a surprise. His musical knowledge had stopped somewhere in the early nineties and songs that didn't belong to classic rock had been totally uninteresting to him.  
  
“It's called 'Song of myself'. I found the notes in an old store between books and parchments. I don't know if it is a new or old song and I can only play the easy last part of it.” Castiel paused for a moment before he looked to Dean.  
  
“It has lyrics, too. I want to travel where life travels, following it's permanent lead. Where the air tastes like snow music,where grass smells like fresh-born Eden. I would pass no man, no stranger, no tragedy or rapture. I would bathe in a world of sensation. Love, goodness and simplicity.  
  
“And later on it goes...  
  
How can you "just be yourself", when you don't know who you are? Stop saying "I know how you feel". How could anyone know how an other feels? Who am I to judge a priest, beggar, Whore, politician, wrongdoer? I am, you are, all of them already...”  
  
He recited the passage in a dark, gravelly voice, playing the melody to support the power of the words.  
  
“The lyrics are beautiful...,” Dean whispered, smitten. He had leaned his face against Cas' shoulder, breathing a soft kiss on the naked skin.  
  
“And so true. I felt as if someone had written these lines... just about me. How could I be 'Castiel', if I didn't know, who Castiel is? I mean... fallen angel, human, heavenly outlaw, Lucifer, Leviathan...God...,” he sighed and shook his head in disbelief. “I had been everything, but it felt like nothing.”  
  
After a short pause, he suddenly got up, a shy smile on his face.  
  
“It's not the time to complain. Come on, I’ll show you my house!”  
  
The sudden mood swing was irritating, and for a short moment Dean thought of coming back to Cas' worries. But then he got up as well and Cas took his hand, dragging him behind.  
  
“Wait... your house?”  
  
Castiel nodded, an amused one sided smirk on his face.  
  
“You like it?”  
  
“Your house? I mean... yeah it's great... a bit sleazy... but. How could you rent a house.”  
  
“I didn’t rent it. I kind of...got it.”  
  
They left the room and entered the hallway, which led to the front entrance.  
  
Now, Dean took the time to take a closer look, and discovered more and more the hidden beauty of the old building. The wallpaper was covered with filigran flowers and stripes. The wooden door frames showed delicate inlaid work.  
  
Old lamps hung on the walls, making the whole hallway look even older than it probably was.  
  
  
  
“Got it? How can you just get a whole house?”  
  
Castiel stopped at the stairway to the first floor.  
  
“The house belonged to Heman. He was an angel, leader of the heavenly choirs. And kind of a friend to me. This house belonged to his vessel. The last time we met, a year ago or so... he told me that he was tired. Tired of fighting, tired of living. He thought of giving his own life an end, although he knew it was a sin to end what God has built. You can imagine how the story ended. His vessel was heirless and Heman obviously thought that I may find it of use.... so... I have the house now.”  
  
Slowly Castiel climbed up the steps into the first floor. His hand was tracing over the parapet and his gaze wandered around proudly. Dean followed a few steps behind, his gaze resting on the angel.  
  
The more time went by, the more he felt like being in an alternate timeline. Castiel was showing him his house. The always more or less neat and slightly stiff angel was still barefoot, just wearing his pants.  
  
His hair was tousled and messy and the tattoo, Dean had only seen at the day April killed Cas, was flaunted prominently on the side of his body, under his rib cage.  
  
“Downstairs is a kind of living room, the kitchen, a small bath and the salon with the piano,” Castiel explained. “Up here, are a few bedrooms and a bigger bath. There is a small attic and a basement.” He spun around, his arms spread wide and he exuded a puerile happiness.  
  
“What are you going to do with it?” Dean looked around, and although the house was dirty and dusty and smelled old, he felt kind of comfortable between the antic walls.  
  
The rooms seemed to be small but cozy, with big windows. He could see the green of the trees in the garden and the gray sky where the sun tried to win the fight against the thick clouds.  
  
Dean stepped to the window and opened it to let some fresh air in. The cool, natural smell made him close his eyes and inhale deeply.  
  
He felt to hands sneaking around his waist and a face pressed between his shoulder blades.  
  
“I thought of a home for us. Mary, Sam, you... and me,” he muttered into the fabric of the shirt and Dean could feel the angels breath on his skin.  
  
“We have the bunker?”  
  
“I know... and it is a good and safe place to be... but sometimes it feels like a prison. The thick walls, the faked windows in the main room. The endless corridors. To me, it often felt so...oppressive. Like a grave for the living... but it's just a stupid idea.”  
  
Dean turned around and Castiel's hands slid on the back of the hunter.  
  
“It's a good idea. I never realized that you feel claustrophobic in the Bunker. I thought you angels didn't really care about something like that. It's great... I mean, if we get it protected properly, we could use it as a vacation home for the weekends.”  
  
Dean imagined a house to live in, with a garden and a driveway and windows. He had the feeling that everything he wished for the last years, became reality within a couple of hours.  
  
“I might be able to build a portal, working like the one we use to enter heaven. So we could move from the Bunker to the house and back in a second.”  
  
“You could do that?”  
  
“Maybe. When I am fully restored.”  
  
Dean raised his eyebrows impressed.  
  
“I should call Sam, get some food and we talk about that,” Dean suggested, curious about the reaction of his brother. The moment he said that, he saw Castiel's gaze changing.  
  
“What is it?”  
  
“I...huh, can we be alone for a few hours or for the day? There is so much to talk about, and I have to show you the garden.”  
  
“Of course. You know what? I’ll drive to the Bunker, get some clothes and tell Sam that we’ll be out for a few days. Grab some food, something to drink... and then it will be just you and me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd
> 
> The lyrics in italic are from the wonderful song "Song of myself" played by the band 'Nightwish'.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Eoa1lQmq6lI


	3. Full of want and full of fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas and Dean deepen their new relationsship

Sam wasn't surprised, when he heard that Dean was out with Cas. The hunter had told his little brother, that he had to talk to the Angel about what had happened. Sam had just nodded and explained, that he would join his Mom in Wichita during a hunt.

So Dean had packed his baggage with a few shirts, underwear, pants and a bit stuff to secure the house. Then he had driven to the supermarket to buy some food. He didn't know if the kitchen in the house functioned, so he bought some bread, cheese, jerky and chips. And of course some bottles of beer and a big fruity pie.

Then he drove back, as quickly as he could and arrived at the house just two hours after leaving.

 

The rain had stopped during the morning and the sun had came out, dipping the house and the garden in a more friendly light. The building wasn't surrounded by the ghostly gloom of desolation any more.

Dean got the bags out of Baby's trunk and carried them up to the front entrance. He hadn't even arrived at the door, when it swung open and the angel stepped out.

“I heard the car”, he said, grabbing two of the bags to carry them into the house.

Dean watched him with surprise. Castiel was dressed again, but not in his usual trench coat and suit. Instead, he was wearing a worn out Jeans, ripped at the knees and an old t-shirt with a motorcycle logo on the front. A hoodie was slung around his hips.

He looked a bit like the Cas Dean had met in the future, but not as stoned as the future one.

“How is Sam?” Cas asked casually, while walking straight to the piano salon.

“He is good. Meeting Mom in Wichita. They wanna go hunting.”

Cas wasn't idle while Dean had been away. The dusty floor in the room was swept clean. And one of the mattresses out of the sleeping rooms in the first floor, laid on the ground in front of the opened windows. It was wrapped in a fresh and clean sheet and was looking quite comfortable.

“This is the safest room. I thought, it would be easier for you to sleep hear during the night”, Cas explained, when he saw that Dean had discovered the 'camp'.

“We, Cas. We are both fitting perfectly on this bed.”

“I don't need sleep, Dean.”

Dean pointed with one finger to Cas and shook his head. Then he looked over to the couch.

“Your snores are cute, angel-who-don't-need-sleep.”

Castiel shrugged and tilted his head, then he nodded slightly.

“My grace is still in recovery.”

He dropped the bags on the floor in one of the corners of the room and started to unbox them. Carefully, he looked on the labels of the things Dean had bought and piled them precisely.

“I have tasted this, when I was human. And I don't understand, how you can eat this. It was awful,” he said, when he found a package of Beef Jerky with lemon ginger.

“They are delicious, you just have to get yourself into the taste.”

Dean knelt next to Cas and grabbed the Beef. He opened it and fished some pieces out of the package.

Cas gave a sniff at them and shook his head disgusted, when he saw Dean eating the pieces with a broad grin.

“I'm glad not to need food right now. When you are finished eating this stuff, I wanna show you the garden. Think, it will rain again later on.”

He looked through the window into the wall of green outside. Last drops of rain were twinkling in the branches and the green of the leafs looked fresh and succulent, so full of life.

“So come on”; Dean smiled, getting on his feet and holding a hand to Cas. He pulled the angel up, pecking a short, beefy kiss on his mouth, what Cas responded with a disgusted grin.

 

The garden was big, even bigger as Dean had imagined.

He had thought, that the trees next to the house were tagging the edge of the garden. But he was wrong.

Cas led him out onto the porch and climbed down a small wooden stairway afterwards. Beds with herbs and tiny colorful flowers surrounded the porch, passing into a green mossy meadow.

The trees - Dean didn't know their names – framed the meadow like a protective wall.

But there wasn't just one row... it was nearly a whole forest that belonged to the house.

“Wow”, Dean exhaled stunned.

This little garden was a whole park.

“Heman had planted lots of different herbs for protection. Rosemary, Sage, Thyme, Garlic... Roses and lavender and so many more. The different trees are connected to the Pagan Magic.” Cas pointed to a big tree, with large branches and a dark bark.

“This is an Alder. The trees have been used for everything medicinally, like muscle aches or even diarrhea. When you cut the bark, the trees sap turns red, like blood,” Castiel explained enthusiastically.

It's seemed that Cas had delved into the garden like an old Explorer into a new discovered land.

“Come, I show you my favorite place.”

He moved across the meadow and went straight into the woods. While passing the trees, he softly touched them with his hands, like getting connected to them.

“The trees are old. Some of them are two or three hundreds years standing here, watching the world around them change. I like them. They are radiating such a peaceful grace. Strong, fighting every storm and still alive... a bit like me, I think.”

He climbed over a few aerial roots and cowered under some deep branches.

“There we are”; he suddenly said and Dean, who was looking around absently, nearly bumped into Cas.

The first thing the hunter realized was a little stream that dabbled into a small pond. The water was framed with reeds and narrow birches. When he looked to his left, he got aware of a wonderful tree, with silvery leafs and pendulous twigs, which nearly touched the ground.

Cas led Dean to the tree and both sat down next to the stem.

 

It was like sitting under a big, living and moving tent.

The twigs were swinging in the soft wind and filling the air with a soft, hypnotizing rustle.

Dean let his gaze wander around. This was something so strange to him. He never had sit under trees or played in the woods.

When he was young, his Dad took him out to learn shooting a gun and not climbing a tree. It was unfamiliar and a little bit scary.

Dean didn't know, why he was feeling frightened.

Maybe it was the sudden loss of sounds other than the wind and twigs, the water and the birds. Maybe it was the perception, that he wasn't on the run, hadn't to hunt monsters. He hadn't to think about what the next step of a hunt would be, or where they have to go to find the monster.

He let out a sigh and closed his eyes. He always had lived in the past or in the future. And this was the presence, the world of today and Dean was without a purpose.

 

A sudden warmth on his shoulder made Dean flinch. He felt Cas moving next to him. The angel got up, just for sitting down behind Dean. With soft pressure Castiel pulled the hunter to him, until he was resting against Cas' chest with his back. On arm was wrapped around his chest, the other laid next to him, Cas hand loosely resting on his tight.

The angel was warm and the slow and steady up and down of his chest, made Dean calm down.

Now Dean found the time to really relish the place, he was resting. The light was soft and dim inside the tree-tent and it wasn't as calm as Dean had thought. Birds were jumping from branch to branch and mice were running somewhere in the grass.

“This place is curative,” Cas said after a while, his low voice rumbling in his chest and sending a pleasant shiver through Dean's body. He had leaned his head at Cas chest. His hand had searched Cas' and they intertwined their fingers. With his free hand, he was plucking some moss from the ground.

“When I have to reconnect with the creation and especially with my self, I come here. The world is sometime so loud and piercing. And due to the whole noise, I often have lost the sound inside me. Here, I can listen. I can think and cry for hours and nobody is here to judge or question me. Here I haven't the urge to fight and help. It's like slowing down.”

He paused, his hand still resting on Dean's thigh, drawing soft circles on the fabric of the jeans.

“I never saw you crying,” Dean wondered.

Sometimes there was this desperate expression on Cas' face, sometime he was frowning, but Dean had never seen the angel crying.

“I never cried in front of you or Sam.” He explained with a calm voice as if he was talking about the weather or the lottery numbers.

“I wanted to stay strong for you. I thought, when someone saw me crying, I would be called weak.”

Dean felt a sudden pain to the core and he realized that he never had known how Castiel really felt. In fact, he didn't know anything of the angel. Yes, he was an celestial being, his vessel was Jimmy Novak and he loved to eat burgers. Castiel had a great interest in bees and references to films and TV shows.

But this information was just a small crack in the surface. Underneath, Cas was way more than a heap of energy, wavelength and whatever...

And Dean knew nothing...

“I am not good in giving advice, because showing feelings isn't what I am famous for. But you know, that it isn't weak to show tears. Showing tears, means showing strength. You don't have to blame yourself, because of crying, being sad or something like that...”

Dean pressed Cas hand, rubbing his thumb over the smooth skin.

“I know it's hard. Gosh... we both sound liking we need a date with the headshrinker, huh.”

A light laughter escaped Cas' mouth and Dean knew without looking at him, that he was smiling.

They sat under the tree for a while in silence, just listening to the sounds of nature, watching the twigs dance and the birds fly. It had started to rain again, but the big branches, with their thick canopy of leaves, sheltered them.

Dean was snoozing and he felt more and more comfortable with doing nothing, thinking nothing. Just being and breathing. It needed a few seconds until he realized that Cas had approached to talk.

“Huh... wasn't sleeping,” the hunter mumbled, stretching his limbs. His butt and his legs had gone dead and now the blood was rushing back into his numb limbs. Dean wiggled his toes inside his shoes and slapping his thighs with his hands.

“What are you doing, Dean?” Cas looked at him confused, trying to understand why Dean was hurting himself.

“My legs fall asleep and I try to wake them up.” The hunter's explanation made Cas' look even more confused. Dean could see, that his mouth was forming another question.

“I squeezed some of my veins, so the blood doesn't get into my feet properly. That made them feel a bit numb and tingly. Nothing to worry about.”

Dean got up on his feet and started to walk around in small circles, jumping up and down until he had a relieved expression on his face.

“I am getting old” he mumbled, stretching his hands above his head and leaned forward to slacken the muscles in his back. Then he flopped back on the ground, sitting on his heels in front of Cas, who had changed his position into a crossed leg sitting posture.

 

The angel had dropped his gaze and his fingers were playing with a twine at his trousers.

“I wonder.... probably it is stupid to asked... but I didn't exactly now, how the terms are.”

He paused, starting to knead his fingers nervously.

“Spit it out, Cas”

“What are we now?”

He raised his eyes, looking all insecure and confused.

Dean thought about an answer for a moment, but instead, he leaned forward. His mouth caught Cas' and he kissed him tenderly, hands pressed into the mossy ground, to not fall completely on the angel.

“Lovers... twosome... courting couple. What do you prefer, Babe?” Dean whispered between two kisses, voicing the pet name slow and with love.

“You called me Babe”, Cas noted winded during the kiss.

“Yeah... 'kay with that?”

Dean couldn't stop pecking kisses onto those full soft lips, tasting the sweetness of Cas' mouth.

“To...ta...lly.” Cas stumbled. Deans tongue was penetrating his mouth, groping over the inside of his lips, tracing the lines of his teeth, before softly prompting his own tongue to a dance.

The angel spread his legs and pulled Dean onto his lap

His hands wandered up Dean's outer thigh until they found their hold on Dean's hips. Castiel's eyes closed and he pressed his head into the stem behind him.

“Dean...”, his voice was a whimper between kisses.

“Yeah?”

The hunter raised his hands cupping Cas' cheeks, thumbs rubbing over the angel's cheekbones.

“I don't understand what is going on,” Cas whispered, his voice trembling. “I want you...so much... but I am scared of this...,” he confessed. “And I don't know why?”

Dean leaned his forehead against Castiel's, smiling gently.

“I am scared, too. It's because everything is so new... to both of us. And it will change at lot of things. We have so much to dope out and to understand. Look at me, Cas. Babe.”

Castiel, who still had his eyes closed, opened them. Emerald green, was meeting electric blue.

“We'll fix that. In the pace it needs. Slowly... carefully. We just need to be honest and we need to trust each other unconditionally. If something is too much or too fast, we have to talk. If something felt wrong, we have to talk. 'kay?”

Castiel nodded, drowning into the green in front of him. Warm eyes surrounded by long lashes and honey coloured freckles. The first wrinkles were drawn in the corners , deepening, when Dean was smiling.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still unbeta'd
> 
> I wonder if anyone of my lovely readers wanted to use my story as inspiration for some drawings.  
> I really would appreciate this and probably reward it with a short drabble :-)


	4. If you go, I won't follow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shadows of the past making Dean run

They changed a few more kisses, before they decided to get into the house. During the walked back, Cas explained a few more things about the trees and bushes growing around the building. Dean listened attentively, smiling about Cas' enthusiasm.

When they arrived at the house, Dean headed to the bathroom. He wasn't an angel and so he still had the need to pee.

The bathroom was small, more like a guest toilet. Cas had put some towels on a small shelf and soap on the basin. He even had draped some Lavender petals on the window board.

The bath was functional and enough for the moment. Dean didn't need papers on the wall or smelly liquid in the toilet. He was used to bathrooms in motels which looked and smelled more like a cesspool.

After finishing his “work” he took a look on his phone and realized that his brother had send him a message just a few minutes ago.

 

“ _Hey. Leaving for Wichita. How is you talk going? Hope you and Cas are ending this boring hide-my-feelings-thing. Mom would be glad about that, too.”_

 

Dean was reading the message once, twice and a third time, before he pressed the answer button.

 

“ _Sam... What the fuck are you talking about?_ ”

 

It needed just a few seconds before the answer of his little brother blinked on his screen.

 

“ _Come on, Dean. Do you really think no one had realized that you and Cas are head over heels in love. Even Rowena knows and Mom thinks, he has a good influence on you. Go and get him tiger....”_

 

Dean stared on the words on his screen and he felt a sudden flush in his cheeks. Had it been that obvious? Sam and his mother – Dean didn't care about Rowena's opinion – knew about his feelings? Since when? And they also knew that Cas felt the same way?

Mary had been back from the death just a few month... and she already was aware of his son's love interest?

Dean put the phone back into the pocket of his jeans, then he stepped to the white sink, throwing some water into his face.

“Go, get him, tiger”; he murmured to himself, moving back to the salon.

 

Cas rested prone on the mattress. Propped on his forearms, he flipped through some of his music books, studying some new songs. He had his legs cocked that his feet nearly bumped against his butt. When he heard Dean, he looked up, spotting the flush on the hunters face and the more than irritated expression.

Dean came over and flop on the mattress next to the angel.

“They knew”; he simply said.

“What do you mean?” Cas turned his head towards Dean and saw, that he was pulling his phone out.

“Read the last two messages of Sam”; Dean simply said. He covered his eyes with his right arm, while his left was searching for Cas. When his fingers found a stripe of exposes flesh, he pressed them against the soft skin.

Cas opened the messenger and read the text Sam had written.

“Go, get him, tiger”, he asked after a short moment. “This is what you told me, when we sat in the car in front of Nora's house. Sam is definitely your brother...”, he laughed and handed the cell phone back. He crunched his nose amused and leant his head on his hand.

“What bothers you exactly? That they suspected feelings, that they are giving kind of advice...”

“That it is so simple;” Dean interrupted Cas. The hunter shifted on the mattresses and turned around to rest on his stomach. He was looking on his hands and with his fingertips he trailed over the white sheet, smoothing the fabric.

“It is dismaying, how fast this is going on. Yesterday, I followed you to this house here and today. We are in a relationship, Sam and Mary are giving their okay and you are planning to restore a house for us. Everything within twenty four hours.”

“I have the feeling,” Cas reflected, his voice warm and low, “ that you still think, you aren't worth. Finally, there is something good in life and you can't believe to be the one to whom this happened.”

“Maybe. I think, I never get rid of the feeling, that all good things come to an end as quickly as they started.”

This was the ghost of the past, which accompanied Dean his whole life. Good things didn't last long, so didn't get accustomed to them. Then it won't hurt, when the darkness switched off the light in your life again and again.

It had happened just too often. Mary and John, Lisa, Ben, Cassidy, Anna, Charlie, Kevin.... the list was long and the feelings that belonged to every of that persons, had cut deep wounds into Dean's soul. Wounds, which had healed badly.

Dean had learned to build up a wall out of solid rocks and steel to not let anybody to the core. And know it was tumbling down and he felt every stone crashing inside.

What if he would lose him? What would happen? This weren't safe times. He had seen Cas die, exploding in front of his eyes, being stabbed, tortured, bewitched... and every time his heart broke. Every god damn time.

He got up on his feet, so sudden that Cas flinched.

“I think, I get us some Burgers. Cheese, Bacon...right”; he smiled awkwardly.

“Dean?”

“And some fries... I'm starving.” He moved backwards to the door, avoiding Cas gaze.

“Dean, what's going on?”

“Nothing...nothing. I just gotta go.”

 

Dean wasn't going to the next Burger shop. He wasn't even driving away. He sat in his car, outside the house, staring on the wheel in front of him.

Right after the entrance door closed behind him, he regretted leaving. Cas had been looking at him, blue eyes full of hurt and incomprehension.

He had heard his name out of the angel's mouth, pleading for an answer.

His gaze had begged, not to leave, but Dean had stormed out by the sudden urge to leave, to run, to whatever.

A part of him had hoped, Cas would follow him out, holding him back. But the angel wasn't coming.

It took Dean four hours to calm down and the realization, that he had fucked up everything - again - made him nearly cry.

He thought of driving to the Bunker, but then he got out of his car, moving slowly to the house again.

Cas wouldn't accept his apology. How could he? Dean left, breaking the promise he had made. He run again, because he couldn't bear this feeling to be happy, to have something good in life.

Dean verged the salon silently. Every step he took, made him feel more and more guilty. Cas earned something better than him, something not broken and forlorn. Someone, who wasn't afraid of bliss.

 

The salon was empty and silent.

“Cas?”

No answer.

What did he expect? Cas running towards him? Smiling? Forgiving?

Dean crossed the room and stepped out on the porch. There he was.

The angel sat on the stairs, his back resting against the wooden batons of the handrail. Jeans and Shirt were gone and he was wearing his suit and trench coat again. He was petting a striped cat, which sneaked slowly around his body, bumping it's head against Cas' thighs with a purr.

“Hey?”

Cas didn't react. He was ruffling the cat's fur, with a loving but sad smile.

“Meow...”

“Are you hungry, little one?”

The cat jumped on Cas' lap, curling up with a satisfied purr.

“Huh, you are tired, sweetheart. Chased too many mice, didn't you.”

The cat was meowing again and her tail was waggling relaxed.

Dean remembered that Cas' was able to talk to animals. He came a step closer and when Cas still ignored him, he sat down, next to him on the porch.

“I fucked it up, didn't I?”

Cas stayed silent, smiling at the cat in front of him, as if Dean was out of thin air.

“Listen, Ba... Cas. I shouldn't have left... but... it scares me. Scares me a lot. I just don't want to lose you and...”

“Shut the fuck up, Dean!” Cas voice was rough and husky and when he turned his head to Dean, the hunter saw a severeness on Cas features, that made him gulp.

“I want to apolo...”

“I don't need your apology”, he cut Dean short, with a sharp voice.

“Who do you think you are, Dean? You are scared and you are bemoaning your losses...”

He grabbed the cat and heaved it from his lap. With a protesting purr, the kitty looked to Dean as if she knew, that he was the reason she lost her sleeping place.

“Do you think, I haven't had wastage. Do you think, they are less worth than yours, because I am just an angel with a lack of feelings?”

His voice was icy and his whole body seemed to tense up.

“I am alive for several billions of years. I have caused losses by my one hand. I have killed people at the behest of my father. Can you imagine how many of my brothers and sisters died? Have you forget, that the angels fall, that I have killed them. Hundreds of them.

That's not all. The losses you count... Charlie, Kevin, Bobby,.... they are mine, too. They had been my friends... my family...”

He stood frozen at the stairs, his hand clawed into the handrail, that it cracked under his grip.

“And I have lost you. You died, became a demon and as I told you... I would have been the one to see you murder the world. And you know what? I am still here. I am standing here because everything that I have experienced doesn't matter. Seeing you die in a fight or in maybe 50 years, scared me to death. Yes, it does, because I love you.”

He stared at Dean his gaze piercing and sad.

“Do you really think, that denying your feelings would change a thing? If you don't want this, fine. But if I die, does it hurt less, when we are not together? No, it does. You can't turn your feelings on and off like a light switch. It will hurt... so why not spending that time, until the inevitable will happen, together?”

Cas shrugged, then he climbed up the few stairs, heading back to the salon. He stopped at the door and turned around to Dean.

“Think about it, Dean. When you still wanna run away, do it. But this time. I won't follow.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta's as always.  
> This is a little shorter chapter than the others before. 
> 
> Jeez, the poor boys. So close to love and still so far away.
> 
> Feel free to leave comments, kudos and of course ideas suggestions how this will go on
> 
> The sentences in italic are the text messages.


	5. I wish, I had been the one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas spend a romantic evening outside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It gets a little hot

Dean saw Cas disappearing into the room and the words of him echoing in his mind. The sudden outburst had taken him by surprise. There was so much pain and anger in Cas' voice, so much disappointment in his gaze. And he was still loving him.

Dean flinched.

I love you... he had said it. Dean had heard it, but now he realized, what this words really mean.

Cas really loved him. With every flaw, every stupid mistake he had done over the last few years. Cas knew that loving Dean always involved fear and pain. But he withstood it for the short moments of love.

 

“I'm so fucking stupid”, Dean mumbled with clenched jaws.

 

He doubled his fists till his knuckles turned white, before he lay into the rail with them. Pain shot through his hands, but he earned it. He felt a rage against himself, he must got rid of, before he could think straight again.

Yes, he wanted it... everything of it. Cas was right. This wouldn't change anything. If Cas would die, he would be wracked, together or not.

Dean sprung to his feet, nearly running into the room. He stumbled over his own feet, grabbing the door frame to steady himself.

The room was empty and a sudden panic formed in Dean's stomach. Was he gone? Had he walked away to hedge himself?

 

“Cas?”, Dean yelled, his own voice strident ringing in his ears.

“Caaaaas?”.

He run down the hallway, out of the front door. The golden pimp mobile was still standing in the driveway. Maybe, he was upstairs or in the basement. Dean entered the house and slammed the door. Two steps at once he ran up the stairs.

“Caaas?”

Every room seemed to be empty and abandoned. Except the last one.

Cas was standing at the window, leaning against the wall, his gaze observing something in the garden. He had his arms crossed in front of his chest.

When he heard Dean enter, he looked over.

“If you want to know... I am dressed in my coat, because I thought of leaving.”

“But you stayed...”

“Yes. As I told you... it doesn't matter. It hurts anyway. So way not staying and hoping that it take a turn for the better. However this will look like!”

 

The corner of his mouth twitched up to a one sided sad smile and the expression on his face showed Dean, that the angel wasn't sure that the decision Dean made was pro him.

“I won't leave, Cas. You were right with everything you said.” The hunter bit his lip and searched for words. “I don't know if I can forget this... this thoughts I have, but I wanna try.”

Castiel closed the gap between them, taking Dean's hands in his. “That's enough for me.”

 

It was a lazy rest of the day. They both went into town, grabbing the burgers, Dean had suggested to buy. They had sat on the porch, eating the fast food in silence. The cat, which obviously was a strayer, slept in the grass, relishing the last warm sun rays, breaking through the branches.

Dean had watched the weather forecast and a warm summer night was promised. So they had carried the mattress out on the meadow.

While Dean was filling an old barrow with dry branches, Cas cut a protection sigils into the grass around the mattress and painted pentagrams and other signs under the sheet. They put the beer into a basket with cold water from the pond and Cas used a bit of his grace to lighten the fire. He then threw some herbs into the flames to hold back the mosquito.

When the fire was burning and the sun had nearly reached the horizon, the two fell an the mattress.

“What a day”, Dean mumbled, staring into the sky above. An airplane was illuminated by the sinking sun, painting a shine white stripe at the blue sky. Black martins flew their circles, hardly visible to his eye.

Cas doffed his trench coat, folded it neatly and laid it into the grass. The suit jacket and the tie was following. He lied down, crossing his arms behind his head and closed his eyes, listening to the cracking of the burning wood.

“How do we name her?”, Dean asked and when Cas opened his eyes and looked into the direction Dean was nodding, he saw the striped cat, sitting between some lavender bushes, lurking for mice.

“What about...Prophet?” Cas suggested and Dean started to laugh. “That's a great idea. I like.” He snipped with his fingers and called the cat by her new name, but she just looked up, wiggled with her ears and looked back to her mice.

“Stubborn brute”, Dean murmured.

Cas smiled and closed his eyes again. He felt Dean shuffling next to him and after a while two plopping sounds.

“Beer?”

“Put it down. Don't want to move right now.”

Dean was taking a sip and placed the bottles at the top of the mattress on the ground. He then scooted forward and lied down, his head resting on Cas shoulder. The angel wrapped his arms around the hunter and placed his hand on the chest of the younger man.

“I want to stop time and stay like this”, Dean murmured. He traced with the tip of his pointer finger the contours of Cas hand, finger by finger, knuckle by knuckle.

“We aren't in a hurry, Dean. There is no one here to impel us.”

“Can I asked you something?”

“Sure!”

Dean interlaced his fingers with Cas'.

“When you fall and Metatron had your grace. How did it feel to be human? I have never asked you that.”

Cas sighed and sat up. He took his bottle and turned it around in his hand, before taking a sip.

“If you don't want to talk about, it's okay.”

Dean didn't want to be the party stopper, but he had always wandered how it must feel to be without the shielding grace.

 

“I'm searching for the right words to explain,” Cas smiled to Dean. “It's not that simple to explain to humans, who never had Grace inside them. And it is probably a very bad comparison, but it is like being a young human child, who is suddenly alone in the world. No parental protection, no experiences what life really meant. As an angel I never needed food, nor sleep. I didn't have to pee or wash myself. If I had pain, I healed myself within seconds. Taking a bus, finding my way, finding a place to sleep. That wasn't necessary when I was an Angel.”

Dean sat in front of Cas, crossed legged, listening excited.

“Imagine you sit on a chair and twenty flat screens surrounding you. On one is Dr. Sexy running, the second show is a football game, the third a talk show. All twenty have different programs running. And all running at full sound level, all at the same time. And you are sitting there and have to focus on one of these shows.”

Dean shuddered by that imagination and he could nearly feel the pain in his head cause by so much input.

“My grace would have shut that down, when it was necessary. But as human, everything had run me over. The first time I felt this burning pain in my stomach, I didn't know it was hunger, because I never experienced how hunger felt. I knew that humans only survive, when they drink and eat, but what exactly does that mean?”

Cas eyed the bottle in his hand, put it away and took Dean's hand in his.

“It was a very painful experience. But I learned so much and it made me stronger at the end of the day.” He raised the hands to his mouth, breathed a kiss on it.

“And... well... a few good things had happened as well.”

A mischievous grin flashed over his face and Dean knew exactly what the angel was talking about.

“She killed you”, he said strained.

“And she deflowered me.” Cas teased, observing Dean's reaction carefully. Dean's lips were pressed together, making his mouth become a thin line.

“I wish, I had been the one”, he whispered, more to himself than to Cas.

This woman had have fun with Cas, played the trustful Samaritan and then, she tortured and killed him afterwards.

“Leastwise, does she satisfy you?”

Cas chuckled.

“Are you jealous, Dean?”

“No I am not. But... well she killed you”; he explained away. But then he nodded.

“I am. It felt like she used you. She lead you to believe she is trustworthy and the morning after, she stab an angel blade in your heart.”

“It sounds too heroic when I say, this is the risk of being an outlawed angel?”

“It does.”

It was part of Dean's nightmares. Cas being at the mercy of this red haired reaper and killed in front of the hunter's eyes.

He had been to late and if Gadreel hadn't healed Castiel, the angel would be dead.

 

“Dean!”

The hunter felt a hand on his cheek, warm and smooth. A thumb was stroking over his cheekbones to his chin and lifted his head. Dean hadn't even realized that he had looked away.

“Stop thinking. I know, you think it was your fault, that April killed me. I won't object, because you didn't listen to my words.”

Cas leaned in, brushing the tip of his nose against Dean's.

“But tonight we won't admit a thought to impair our mood. Not tonight, Dean.” He kissed the hunter softly, pulling his face to him. The same time Dean moved forward. Cas fell back and Dean was over him, their faces just inches departed.

“Not tonight”, Dean repeated, lowering his head to welcome the angel's lips on his. Castiel's hands wandered to the back of Dean's head, pulling him closer into the kiss, which went rougher every second. Tongues swirling around each other, sending little electric jolts through both of their bodies.

Dean lifted, without releasing Cas' mouth, one leg over the angel's body, now sitting on his lap.

“I wanted this for so long”, he whispered into the kiss, grinding with his jeans covered hips forward. Cas' eyes closed, when he felt the weight of Dean on his lap, pressing against his growing arousal.

“In those fucking lonely nights...,” Dean sucked at Cas' lip, causing a moan from the angel. “... when the only way to relax was getting some steam off...” Cas hips bucked up, responding to Dean's slow movements. “I wished...it was you... imagine your hands, your body.... and when I came...than with your name on my lips...” Dean breathed, sinking more and more into the kisses.

Dean heard the gravelly voice of the dark haired.

“I heard every single prayer, Dean...” Cas hands moving down Dean's back until they got hold of Dean's waist. “I came... every single time... with your voice in my mind and I wished that I would have been so brave to reveal my feelings.”

Cas' words washed into Dean's mind and caused a wave of pleasure and heat floating through his entire body. Maybe he should be angry or irritated, but he just could feel the thrill.

Dean moved his hips, increasing the pressure. His own cock was painfully hard in his pants, but he didn't care. He wanted to see Cas, see him come.

They could get naked, fucking the life out of their bodies. But this was not just about sex, and Dean -although he wanted nothing more right now, than to feel his angel completely - took his time. This was special...

“Dean...” The dark angelic voice made the hunter focus again. Cas lids were half closed, his lips parted, gasping for air. He was clinging to Dean, pressing him so close to his own body that it felt like Cas wanted to break him.

Dean leaned forward again, his lips finding his way to Cas' ear. His tongue flickered over the auricle. His hips were still rubbing over Cas' crotch and he felt his own arousal to climb into oblivion. And they were only kind of frotting.

“Wanna see you, Babe”, Dean whispered, his voice sounding more wrecked like he wanted it to sound. “See... you”, he hissed, when Cas bucked his hips, nearly making him tumble over. “...come...for... jeez...Caaas”

This wasn't planned. He wanted to withstand longer, making Cas come first. The sudden climax hit him with no premonition. Dean pressed his crotch against Cas', his cock twitching and wetting his pants.

“That wasn't planed”, he grumbled against Cas' neck, shaking and trembling. His warm breath made Cas shiver.

“So beautiful...human”; Cas whispered, his lips nearly brushing Dean's neck. The hunter had collapsed on the angel's body.

“Never came that...fast.” Dean pouted, stuck between satisfaction and embarrassment.

 

 


	6. Poured out sex-appeal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a night of cudling and loving, Dean wanted to take shower.   
> Surpisingly, the only way to get cleaned is the cold pond in the garden.

The first thing he felt, when his mind started to leave the lands of dreams, was a warm fuzzy feeling. A light breeze of wind caressed his face and he could smell the fresh aroma of morning dew, leaves and a last rest of the fire which warmed them through the night.

The second thing he felt, was the smooth that was pressed against his back. An arm wrapped around him, legs tangled. The movement of a steady breath, whose warmth swirled around his neck.

Slowly, he opened his eyes.

 

“Morning, sunshine.”

The voice behind him made Dean shiver.

Cas moved slightly, wrapping his arm tighter around Dean, nuzzling his face at the hunter's neck.

“Did I wake you, Babe?” Dean asked, closing his eyes again, as he felt soft lips peppering the crook of his neck with kisses.

“No, I already was awake. Watching you sleep.”

Dean could feel Cas' smile.

“What's so interesting in watching me sleep?”

“You're beautiful... everything is smooth and relaxed and sometimes you are champing silently. Murmuring things.”

 

The hunter rolled his eyes and turned around in the embrace of his angel to see Cas' face.

He was smiling, his hair delightfully tousled into all directions, still some signs of sleep in his eyes.

“Champing? Really. Oh gosh that's weird.” He shook his head theatrically, then he let his hand sneak around Cas' waist to pull him into a morning kiss.

“What's the plan for today, angel?” He teased between kisses.

“More of this.” Cas deepened the kiss. The hand, that laid now on Dean's back, was stroking up and down his spine.

“Good idea.... But what about a shower first? I feel sticky and sweaty and not very aromatic. Especially in the southern area.”

After coming on top of Cas, still being in his trousers, they just got rid of their clothes, curled together under the thin blankets.

“There's no shower... just the...pond!” Cas chuckled amused, rubbing his nose against Dean's.

“The pond? You're kidding?”

This was a hole in the woods, filled with water and all kinds of plants. Possibly even fishes and frogs or way more disgusting things.

For a moment Dean considered to drive to the Bunker for a shower.

“I'm not kidding. The water is excellent and wonderfully cool. And no one could watch.”

Cas put a last peck on Dean's nose, before he pushed back the blanket and stretched his body, with a light groan. Then he got up.

“Come on, lazy bones”; he teased holding a hand to Dean, who slowly crawled out from under the blanket.

He grabbed the hand of the angel, and he pulled him on his feet.

That was probably the weirdest thing he had done his entire life, he thought, when he followed Cas into the woods.

Two naked men wandering through a forested area like Adam and Eve through Paradise.

Not that Dean would make any objections. The view in front of him was more than delicate. Cas, completely naked. His lightish soft skin contrasted to the dark abrasive surface of the trees. With every step he took, his muscles were moving under the skin. With out the slayers of clothes Cas was always wearing, Dean realized for the first time, how sylphlike the angel was moving. Strong, perky steps, but still gracious.

He looked like belonging into the nature, like a pagan god, walking along the bushes and trees, as if it was the most natural thing to be naked.

Dean wondered if Cas even knew what his appearance did to the hunter.

He stayed a few steps behind, relishing the broad shoulders, the trained back, which merged into a bootylicious butt, muscular thighs and sharp shaped calves.

 

“Are you checking me out, Dean?”

Cas stopped next to the pond, arms crossed in front of his chest, his weight shifted on one food. He was examining Dean, with his brows furrowed.

“No... I... I...” Dean stumbled, starring on the exposed middle of the angel. He swallowed hard, licking his lips unwittingly. Those god damn hipbones, those muscles that shaped a v, leading right to the holy place.

“Good”; Cas smiled, knowing his impact exactly. Then he turned around, took a few steps forward to the edge of the waterside.

“Come on”; he laughed, running into the pond, making the water splatter around. When the water swirled around his thighs, he let him self fall. Diving into the clear natural liquid.

Dean shuddered, when some of the drops hit his naked skin. The water was icy, like beer out of the cooler.

 

The cold doesn't bother Castiel. He was swimming from one side to the other, diving through the whole pond, until he paddled on one place, looking over to Dean challenging.

Slowly, Dean approached the waterline, stepped into the icy liquid. A squeal escaped his mouth and he strained every fiber of his body. This was not refreshing, this was painful. He felt like a shock frosted chicken. Cas was focussed on him, a grin on his face that reminds Dean of the time, his angel was the vessel of Lucifer.

“I didn't feel my toes”, Dean whined, wrapping his arms around his own body.

“You're a Milquetoast, Dean!” Cas laughed, drifting on his back.

Dean took another step, dived with squeezed eyes into the water. It wasn't long, when he appread next to Cas with a loud yell, his teeth clattering.

“Cold...cold...cold...”, he breathed, rubbing over his body, to clean away the traces of last night. The water surrounded him, pressing the air out of his loungs.

“Jeeez, cold, too cold.... I'm done”, he breated, hurried to get out of the water. He jumped up and down, rubbing his hands together to dispel the numb feeling.

He felt refresh and clean, but the pressure of a hot and steam shower, was way more for his taste.

When he felt a little warmer again, Dean moved to the silvery willow, settling himself on te warm moss. They had climbed over the ceiling of the house and warm rays were breaking through the branches.

“Why don't you come out of the water and join me, before you changed into a mermaid?”; Dean joked over the reed to Cas. The hunter could hear the angel still dabble in the water, but the water side plants shielding him.

“I'm no mermaid, Dean. Meg had said, I'm a unicorn... but obviously, I'm an angel of the Lord,”Cas objected.

“Or my Baby in a Trenchcoat,” Dean retorted amused, earning a insulted gasp from the Angel.

He heard the reed rustling and the dark head of hair appeared between the green plants. Slowly, Cas climbed out of the pond. Waterdrops glistening on his body. Dean thought, that this stupid cinema vampire, would get green with envy, by the sight of the angel sparkling in the sunlight.

Castiel slowly approached, his gaze fixing the hunter.

“I' m not a Baby in a Trenchcoat as you see”, Cas answered, looking down at himself. Dean wanted to take it slow. This had been his thoughts last night. But he felt the urge to touch his angel, to feel every inch of this astonishing creature in front of him.

“C'mere”, he whispered, reaching out his hand. Castiel accepted the hand, going pn his knees next to the hunter.

“You're ice cold,” Dean noted, slowly rubbing the slender fingers, between his hands. Castiel watched him attentively.

“The cold doesn't bother me. You don't have to worry,” Cas comforted Dean. He pulled back his hand, pressing two fingers on Dean's forehead and a gentle warmth was floating through the hunters body. “You see.”

The drops on Castiel's skin had dried. The icy pale skin was warm and tanned again and Dean himself felt warm and cozy.

“You're a hot guy,” he joked, leaning in to brush a kiss on Cas' lips.

“Thank you”, Cas whispered, relishing the hunter's kisses.

They exchanged a few kisses for a while, before Dean's hands wandered to the broad chest of his friend.

 

“Lay down”; he ordered, pushing Castiel backwards.

After a short moment of hesitation Castiel obeyed and layed down in a slow, graceful motion, his gaze resting on Dean. This time Dean wanted to have control over the situation, like he had planned the night before. He wanted to take his time, wanted to indulge Castiel.

The angel shifted a bit to find a comfortable position on the green, moosy ground. The earth felt warm underneath him and he could feel the energy which runs through the ground, like a breath of mother natur.

“What do you want me to do?”

Dean shook his head.

“Just let me do, kay.”

Cas nodded, trusting Dean completely.

The hunter had kneeled down next to Cas side. His eyes hiking over the angelic body. He, laying in front of him, so naturally, was like poured out sex-appeal. And the most gorgeous fact for Dean was, that the angel mostly didn't know how highly coveted he is.

“Do you know how smashing you are?” Dean brought up, leaning a bit forward to be face to face with Cas. With his thumb he rubbed over the full plumb lips.

“This mouth...lush and tender...”

Cas tried to snatch the finger with his mouth, but Dean pulled him away, shaking his head.

“Nah... let me do...”, he reminded the angel. Then he let his pointerfinger wander down over jaw and neck to the sternum.

“You have choose a devastatingly handsome vessel. On purpose?”

Cas scrunched his nose, his tongue flicking over his lips.

“Maybe?”, he responded teasingly, although the truth was, that handsomeness wasn't the priority in the choice of a vessel. Castiel even had been in a female body for a while.

Dean chuckled and while his finger slowly trailed up and down the sternum, he memorized every inch of the body. This body was a playground for Dean. He never was with a man before. Of course, he knew what he liked or disliked himself. And certainly, he was aware of his own erogenous points. But now he had to find out, how Cas was ticking. The uncountable numbers of women he had shared a bed with, had showed him, that every person was different in their affectations.

Dean had to admit that he was curious and nervous at the same time.

“I like this single freckle over your nipple”; he mentioned. With the tip of his finger, he touched the freckle and rubbed over the nipple afterwards, educing a moan from the angel.

“Oh... sensitive. Good to know.”

Dean leaned forward, breathing hot air over the second nipple, before swirling with his tongue around the small hard dug.

Cas breathed in sharply. He learned of the sensibility of his nipples, from his time with April. But Dean's soft licks and rubs were way more stimulating.

“Feels good, hmm?”

“Yes... so good, Dean!”

Dean took his time to tease the teats slowly and perserveringly. Soft bits, changed with swirling licks, followed by gentle pinches. Cas was already whining under his touches. His hand resting on Dean's calves as if he needed to steady himself.

The delicate noises Cas made, didn't left Dean cold, so he decided to move a step forward. He let his lips wander south and when he turned his slighty, he took notice of Cas' growing arousal.

A thrill of anticipation made him shiver and he had to smile by the thought, that he – Dean Winchester – was longing for a cock to suck.

He kissed a line over Cas' belly, dipped his tongue into the button, before moving to one of this outstanding hip bones.

“You need a weapon license for these”; he murmured, sucking a love bite into the soft skin, right at the edge of the v-line.

Slowly, he crawled along Cas' side.

“Spread your legs for me, Babe”, he ordered and Cas followed the instructions immediately.

Dean sprawled out in the space beween Cas' legs, bracing on his forearms.

Cas cock rested half-hard on his lower stomach, right in front of Dean's face. Precum was glisting, dripping out of the small opening of the foreskin. Dean watched it carefully as if it was something precious. Something, Dean had to consider how to handle.

It wasn't the first time he had a cock in his hand, but it was the premiere that it wasn't his own.

“It doesn't bite, I think”, Cas remarked, his voice shaky and eager. When Dean looked up, he found Cas' observing him. Cheeks flushed not only by the warm sun, a soft shine of sweat on his forehead. His pupils were dilated and his gaze a bit transfigured.

Dean rolled his eyes.

“The only thing I want to hear from you, are these sweet moans and groans, angel”, he countered snarky. Then he leaned forward, licking a strip along the whole length of Cas' cock. He felt the angel shudder.

Dean shifted his weight on his left arm and wrapped his right hand around the shaft. With not to much pressure, he begann to stroke the imposing arousal, releasing the glans out of it's hiding place.

Cas's head fell back onto the soft moss underneath and his eyes fell shut. He wanted to hold back a moan just to tease Dean, but the feeling of the hunter's fist, moving up and down, made it impossible to stay silent.

“Dean,” he moaned with pleasure.

“That's what I want to hear, Babe. So hot, my angel.”

Dean rewarded the moans with his mouth pulling over the tip. He licked up the drops of liquid, then nudge the small slit with the tip of his tongue. Cas bucked up, rolling his hips against the working mouth.

“Dean... please”, Cas whimpered. He stationed his legs, pressing his naked feet into the soil.

“Please... what?” Dean's hand was curled around the base and his head was bumping up and down in a nearly deadly slow rhythm.

“I...mmmh... don't.... ahhhh... I... I...,” Cas stumbled, pushing up into Dean's hand and mouth.

He didn't know what he was begging for. The knot in his stomach was growing and he felt the urge to come. But he also wanted to stay like this forever. Dean's mouth around his cock, wet and warm. Hands playing with his balls and caressing the ticklish skin at his side.

“Give... me... everything...”, he spilled out between two deep growls.

“Everything?” Dean hummed against the tip.

“Dean...”. Cas voice was a desperate whimper, higher as usual. “Fuck... me.”

His shoulders were sinking into the soil, his hips moving up and down. “Fuck me.....please.”

Dean hollowed his cheeks, taking him as deep as he could. He felt the weight of Cas' cock on his tongue, the salty flavour of his liquid. One, two, three deep moves, then he stopped.

His hand never leaving Cas' cock, he crawled over the angelic body until his face was next to Cas'.

“Open your eyes, my angel.” Dean's voice was soft, sounding less confident than he wanted it to sound. Cas' openend the eyes, seeing Dean's face right in front of him, just a few inches away.

“I won't fuck you right now.”

He leaned down, kissing his angel forcefully, while his hand was stroking over the length, increasing spead with every move.

Cas legs tangled with Dean's, his hands shoot up to the hunter's shoulders, fingers digging into the flesh.

“Please... I,” his voice was a breathless whimper into Dean's mouth.

“Yes, Cas. You're so hot... so beautiful,” Dean praised, adding an extra twist to his handwork.

A shudder ran through Cas' body and the angel cried out, pulling Dean so close that his body was trapped between him and the ground underneath. Dean could feel the climax of the angel running through his own body. A wet sticky puddle of come spread between there belly's.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, the two can't hold back.
> 
> Feel free to comment and if you like... leave some kudos.


	7. Tool time and time outs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas are talking about the house.  
> Everything seemed to be fine until Dean found Cas in the basement, being totally distraught.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of domestic destiel.  
> But the good times aren't lasting for long.

The smell of fresh brewed coffee guided Castiel into the kitchen.

After cleaning himself for the second time this day, he went back into the house. In the salon he pulled over one of the jeans he had found in Deans duffelbag and an old shirt of the hunter. Both a little to big, but he didn't felt like searching for his own cloth right now.

“How did you get coffee?” He looked surprised, when Dean filled a second mug and handed over the warm beverage.

“Bought some instant coffee and a water boiler.”

Dean jumped onto the kitchen counter and took a deep satisfied sip from his coffee. His gaze wandered of his angel friend and he smirked amused, when he realized that Cas was wearing his clothes.

“You look good in my AC/DC shirt,” he stated, tugging at the blue-grey fabric.

“You like it?”

“Yeah. It's your color.”

Dean took another sip and put the coffee next to him on the counter afterwards.

“What are you going to do with the house. I mean, you told me the planned purpose, but it is still a little crappy. The shower isn't working, the wallpaper are falling of the walls, it's dusty and very old.”

Dean's focus the last days wasn't on the house, but he had seen a few things and when Cas really wanted this house to be a second home, it had to be renovated. For now it was more like the old motel rooms they lived in when they were on a hunt.

“Oh, I have a lot of ideas for the house.” A grin lightens up Cas face. He put his cup onto the dusty table and walked over to a high board at the other side of the room. Riffling though one drawer, he pulled out a pile of papers in a folder.

“I found these. I am not exactly sure, what they exactly mean, but this are kind of plans of this house.” He spread out the papers on the table and Dean came over to sit down next to Cas, who and settled on a kitchen bench.

“Yeah, these are blue prints, showing the length of walls, the height of rooms and the position of windows and doors.”

Dean shoved the papers around, surprised to have those information about such an old house.

“This seemed to be a circuit diagram for the electric in the house. And this plan shows the whole garden area... wow this is definitely big.”

“I thought about renovating the rooms, painting the walls in white. I watched some youtube videos and they said that it is quite simple. More furniture is stored in the basement. I just take a short look, but there are cupboards, tables and chairs and I have also seen book shelves. One video I have seen showed how to check if the windows are consistent. A few weeks ago, when I stayed here, I walked along the windows with a candle. They are dirty but intact,” he explained proudly.

“That's cool. I thought you only watch those kitty-videos on youtube.”

Dean tried to imagine Cas sitting on his bed in the bunker, listening concentrated to the explanations of some free time craftsman.

“I normally do. But I didn't understand why cats are afraid of cucumbers. Is it because they are out of water? Huh?”

He shrugged his shoulders and thought of interrogating Prophet. Maybe the striding cat could give him some answers to this question.

“Well,” he said after a while, “I switched to some of those tool time videos, which are quite funny. But back to the house. I don't want it to be like the bunker, full of stuff and monster things. I thought of something totally different. Maybe, we can use the big living room and get a billiard table and a big TV in there.”

Cas looked over to the window, chewing thoughtfully on his lower lip. As an angel, he didn't need distraction like having a hobby. But humans did. Humans love to use their free time to get rid of thoughts, to relax and having fun. Cas wanted Dean and Sam to have fun. He wanted to help them, to experience some kind of normality.

“Billiard table. I'm in... I'm absolutely in.” Dean smiled, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“I want the salon with the piano stay like this. Renovated of course, maybe some bookshelves and a nice new couch and a desk. Everyone had a room upstairs for himself... and in the basement we could store things.”

“What if I didn't want a room for myself?” Dean smirked, leaning his head against the side of Cas' shoulder.

Cas leaned his own head against' Dean's. When he had made plans for the house, he and Dean weren't together. It wasn't even planned that there would be a time of confession.

The plans, he had thought of, when he wandered through the old building, were more like daydreaming of a better future.

“We can share a room. Or you can migrate to Sam?”

Cas felt a hand sneaking around his waste and a chaste kiss on his shoulder.

“I prefer you. Sammy is snoring and sleep-talking.”

“So do you, Dean. But I think, I can handle this.”

Dean laughed and lifted his hand to kiss Cas on his cheek.

“Other plans?”

“Yes, I have. To get to heaven we had a portal. Signs painted in the sand. Using the right Enochian words opened it and you could step through the portal into heaven. I thought about finding a way to rewrite this signs and change the spell so that we have a portal between the bunker and this house here. It would save driving time and if only we could use it, it might be helpful.”

“Kind of Stargate. Or Enterprise. Beam me to the Bunker, Scotty.”

Dean lifted his hand to his mouth, playing like he was talking into a communicator.

“What are you doing, Dean?”

The hunter started for an explanation, when the phone in his pocket started to ring. He fished it out and saw, that it was a Skype call from his brother.

Dean looked over to Cas, changing glances and when the angel just nodded, he answered the call.

 

“Hey ya Sammy. Hey Mom.”

The faces of his brother and his mother appeared in the screen. Both obviously sitting somewhere outside. The sun was lighting their faces and pieces of blue sky and green woods were seen behind them.

“Hey. How are my boys?” Mary smiled into the screen. Dean stretched out his arms and turned his hand, while Cas was scooting closer so that both of them were shown on the screen more or less. Sam had obviously bought a selfie stick for the Skype call.

“Hello, Mary”, Cas smiled mildly. “Hello, Sam. We are doing well, I think.”

Sam was squinting his eyes.

“Cas are you wearing a AC/DC Shirt?”, he asked surprised, earning a huff with the elbow from his mother and a hissed “Samuel...”

“Yes... I do. It is comfortable.”

“And it fits him”; Dean added. “So... you are not calling because of asking us about shirts.”

“Nope. Mom and I had hunted down the monster. So we are back in the evening.”

“Oh... that's good and,” Dean looked again to Cas, leaning in to asked him something in a whispered tone. “And... when you come back, we don't met in the bunker. Come to... how is this address, Babe?” The same moment he had spilled out the pet name, he bite on his lips, heat flushing his face.

“Nelson Av. 66, Still Lebanon,” Cas answered the question.

“Babe?” Sam's voice sounded more irritated than ever and Dean avoided to look back to the screen.

“Aww, my boys. Are you two kind of a pair now?” It was Mary's touched voiced, who made Dean look up again. He saw the soft smile of his mother and the hand of her, covering Sam's mouth.

“Kind of... I hope, you don't have a problem with that.”

Mary's smile grew bigger. “Of course not,... I”; she turned to Sam. “Samuel Winchester, would you stop that. This is a precious moment for us.” She bitched to Sam and his younger son fell silent immediately. “Sorry, Mom. But I told you,” he grinned.

“Dean, Cas... my boys. You make me so happy and so proud. That's the right thing you do... god, I will hug you like crazy, when I'm back.”

She was throwing a kiss to the screen.

“Okay, Mom”, Dean grinned relieved.

“So, we don't want to disturb you any longer. See you tomorrow.”

Mary was waving and Sam was showing a big grin. Dean could see, that Sam was intended to say something. But he just nodded with a chuckle.

The call ended and Dean put down the phone.

“I think, Mom gave us her blessing. That wasn't planned.”

“Does it bother you, that your mother and Sam now know about us?” Cas had seen the embarrassed flush on the hunter's face after calling Cas with his pet name.

“No, no...” Dean nearly jumped on his seat, grabbing Cas' hand. “No...it's fine, but I still...” He breathed, choosing his word wisely. “I'm still a little scared and surprised that everything is moving so fast right now. And it's working without problems. I just wait to find a monster behind the next corner...”

He raised Cas' hand to his mouth, breathing a soft kiss onto the knuckles. Then he leaned his forehead against Cas hand.

“Sometimes something good happened even to us”; Cas stated.

 

They had planned to start with the restauration right away. Dean had found in the storeroom next to the kitchen some tools for fixing the shower. The water in the kitchen and in the toilet were running, so it was probably just a rusty pipeline. Cas wanted to check the basement for furniture and other thing they could use to restaurate the house.

Now, he stood right in the middle of the bathroom, shaking his head in disbelief. This wasn't a bathroom, this was a nightmare in red and gold. A big enamel bathtub stood at the wall opposite the window. The golden fittings looked dirty and dull. The whole room was wallpapered with a red and golden arras. The tiles were creme colored surrounded by a fine golden line.

“How can anyone bath in here?”

The longer he was looking around, the dizzy he felt by the pattern of the tapestry. For a moment he thought about just leaving and calling a craftsman, who could dispute with this nice design. But the memory of the cold pond-water made Dean unpacking the tool box.

The shower was working, but there just a few drops of water coming out of the sprinkler. The water in the bassin was running without problems.

Dean climbed into the tube unscrewing the sprinkler from the pipeline and the fittings from the wall. He checked the different parts, cleaned them and sprayed rust converter in the inside of the pipelines. Sometimes, he heard Cas walking down in the basement, shoving furniture around.

While the pipelines layed on the ground, covered with the converter, Dean sat down in the bathtub. It was quite big and spacious and the hunter started to thought about the things he could do, when the water was working. Sitting in the warm water with Cas pressed against his chest, making sweet love between foam and soap bubbles.

This wouldn't be that complicated like shower sex.

Dean chuckled, leaning his head back against the cool enamel.

He thought about the Skype call and about the smile on Mary's face. It was an honest smile and not that faked I-want-to-avoid-a-conflict-smile. She loved Cas as an son, and she loved that Dean was happy with him. And Sam?

Dean could hear the “I knew it”.

Would it be weird in the Bunker, when they came back? Would it change their work arrangement?

There were so many thing to talk about. So many things that have changed through the days.

 

It needed Dean two hours to fix the shower. The water was running warm and with good pressure and the first thing, he would do the next day, was buying some new wallpapers. Maybe a nice blueish tone or a simple white one.

Dean packed the tools together and he thought of getting Cas to the bathroom, to show him the result of his craft work.

He walked down the stairs, listening into the silent. Something was different. He couldn't say what, but the rumbling sounds out of the basements were missing.

“Cas... wanna see my working shower?” he asked into the silence but getting no answer.

The door of the basement stood open and dust danced in the dim light. Dean put the tools on a cupboard and approached the door, looking down the wooden stairs.

Cas sat on the last steps, staring into the twilight in front of him. “Baby?” Dean's voice was just a whisper. The angel reacted with a small so, his body trembling. Dean was next to Cas, the second he heard that desperate sound. A pale shine laid on the angel's face and the happiness of the morning was gone.

“What happened?”

Cas just wanted to check the basement for new furniture. Now, he seemed to be completely broken and wrecked. The angel stayed silent, his gazed glued on his shaking fingers.

“Cas, babe. Talk to me... please.” Dean begged.

“It's all my fault. Their death is my fault.” Cas whispered, his voice sounded empty and cold. Then he fell silent again, starting to rub his fingers against each other as if he wanted to wash something of his skin.

“What do you mean?”

Cas opened his mouth to answer, but closed it after a moment. We was biting his lips nervously, than shook his head.

“Cas, Babe? What is going on?”

Worried Dean looked over to Cas. He lifted his hand to Cas back, wanted to rub slow circles over his shoulders, but the Angel scooted away.

“Dean... I need....time to think.”

He stood up, nearly jumped on his feet and climbed up the stairs.

 


	8. May they find their heaven in death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A secret chamber is the reason for Cas' behavior and Dean had no plan, how to handle it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The following chapters will include the topic PTSD (Post traumatic stress disorder).   
> If anyone is triggered by this or anxiety attacks, this might not be the right chapter.   
> Of course, feel free to read, if you want to.   
> But I warn you. :-D

The basement was dim. Dust was swirling through the air and it smelled a bit stale.

Dean had thought about running after Cas, but he didn't want to be oppressive or annoying. So he decided to find out, what had happened in the basement that the angel reacted like that.

He moved slowly forward, his gaze was trailing over the furniture and boxes, which were standing right and left of the basement corridor.

The boxes were filled with books and papers, nothing scary or creepy.

There was no sign of anything evil and Dean wanted to move back, when something at the end of the hallway attracted his attention. He moved slowly closer, passing the cupboards and shelves. When he approached the end of the hallway, Dean realized that it was a door out of rustic metal.

It stood open and a soft glow of a bulb poured out of a small gap.

Goosebumps growing on his neck and Dean had the feeling that he wouldn't like what was behind the door. His fingers closed around the edge of the door. It was cold, nearly icy and thick. Dean had to use both hands to pull the door open. The hinges were jarring loudly and the door was dragging over the floor

An odd smell splashed into Dean's face and he had to gulp down the bile in his mouth. It was the smell of dust, fear and loneliness. Something you couldn't describe, only smell.

Dean stepped into the room and petrified by what he saw.

The walls, the floor and even the low ceiling were covered with dark prints of angel wings. This wasn't just a room in the basement.

It was a grave.

 

Late afternoon, Sam and Mary arrived at the address, Dean had given them, climbing up the way to the house just to find Dean sitting on the stairs, bottles of beer laying around him. He was staring to a point in front of him, didn't even realize his family had arrived.

“What happened?” Mary asked, letting her dufflebag fall on the ground to sit down next to her son.

“Dunno?” Dean said after moments of silence. He raised the bottle to his mouth, drinking the rest of his beer with one gulp and afterwards the bottle landed on the ground, breaking into thousands of pieces.

A deep sighed filled the air and Dean buried his face in his hands.

“Just tell us, Baby.”

Mary rubbed the back of her firstborn soothingly and Sam sat down on the other side of his brother. Something must have happened and it was easy to put one and one together, that the cause of Dean's mood was Cas.

“We really worked it out. Two stupid idjits realizing that they belong together. Kind of. And it worked well. This house, it's Cas'. Long story, but... he was planning to restaurate it for us, as a safe haven. I was repairing the shower in the first floor and Cas was in the basement, searching for furniture. He was so happy and relaxed and then, I found him there, sitting on the stairs, scared and totally out of order.”

Dean looked up, fixing the tree tops with his gaze. His jaw was clenched and he was biting his lip, holding back tears of worry and anger.

“This house had belonged to an angel. Heman, a friend of Cas' who had decided to turn his back on heaven, living a life on earth. He had a hidden room in the basement.”

Dean closed his eyes, shaking his head. “It's a grave. Burned angel wings are at the wall, on the floor, everywhere. Ten or twenty or more. And there is a fucking sign at the door. A plaque. 'May the fallen find their heaven in death.'”

“You think, those angel prints are of those who fell?”

“Cas' is thinking it. He said, they are dead because of him. And now, he has locked himself in his room. I tried to talk to him, but he is ignoring me. Yelling at me, that I should leave, should let him alone.”

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose.

After he had found out about the room, he had searched for Cas, finding him in one of the rooms upstairs. He had locked the door, but Dean had heard the sobs through the thick wood. At first, he had tried to convince him softly to open the door, but Cas had refused. Dean had yelled, trying to kick in. Nothing had worked. Cas had stayed in the room for hours now and when Dean realized that he didn't get through to him, he had moved to the kitchen, grabbing his beer.

“We'll fix this, Dean.” Mary tried to sound encouragingly. Since now, they always had find a solution for every problem and they would try everything to help Cas.

“It sounds as if he is suffering from PTSD”; Sam stated, rubbing his back.

“PT... what?”

“PTSD. Post traumatic stress disorder. When someone experienced a trauma, it can happen that an incident occurs, that pushed them back into the traumatic situation.”

Dean looked at Sam as if he was talking Chinese.

“How could we solve that?”

“Normally, you are going to a psychologist.”

A constrained laugh escaped Dean's mouth.

“Yeah. Good idea. And what the hell should he tell them. I'm an angel of the Lord and I caused my siblings fall from heaven. Now I'm a little stressed, can you help me? They will send him right to the next funny farm and lock him away till eternity. Great job!”

Dean got up, started to pace around on the small front porch, rubbing his hands through his face.

“I'm scared”, he admitted, his voice just a low whisper.

“We'll find a way.” Sam joined his brother, supporting him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Will you show us the room, Dean. We may find something to help. And Sam can search the Internet.”

The elder brother just nodded and led them into the house, guiding them to the kitchen, where the blueprints still rested on the table.

“It's a nice house.”

Mary put her duffle bag on one of the chairs, letting her gaze wander around.

“You should see the garden. We even have a pond to swim in... although it's fucking cold.”

“You tried?”

“Yeah, the shower wasn't working.”

 

Everything strive against entering the room again, when Sam opened the door to the angel grave. Dean stayed behind and when he saw Mary's questioning look, he just shook his head.

He had seen enough for today and even the thought of the angel wings, printed on the wall, made him shiver. They were dead, gone, but he still felt the energy of so many lost souls in their. The angels may have returned to heaven in death, as the sign said, but their grief had left an echo inside those walls. A silent cry, which you couldn't hear by ear but by heart.

Dean heard Mary and Sam walking around in the room, whispering to each other. He didn't understand a word, but he knew they could feel it as well. Slowly, Dean took a few steps back until he stood in the incoming light, which flooded down the stairs.

Although they stayed only a few minutes inside the hidden room, it seemed to be an eternity for Dean and he was relieved to see their faces again.

Mary's expression was sad and when she approached Dean, she pulled him in an embrace.

“We'll fix him.”

“I hope, Mom.”

 

Sam and Mary had settled themselves in the kitchen, surfing through the internet to find information about PTSD, which may help Cas'. Dean had tried to help them, but after half an hour he couldn't stand it to sit and stare at the screen of the laptop.

He excused himself, telling them, he needed fresh air.

But instead of going out, he climbed the stairs to the first floor, heading slowly to the door of Cas' room. It was silent behind the wooden door, but Dean knew, that the angel was still there. Hesitantly, he raised his hand to knock at the door, but stopped in the motion. In lieu he dropped on his knees, leaning his forehead against the door.

“Cas?” He breathed although he knew, that Cas' wouldn't answer.

Dean sighed, his fingertips were trailing over the grain of the wood.

“I know, you didn't want me here. And it's okay. I... I don't want to push you to anything. And I respect your wish to be alone.” He pressed his hand flat against the surface. It was a cheesy thought Dean had, but sometimes in those chick-flick films, the other one was sitting on the other side of the door. Maybe Cas sat there, pressing his hand against the door like he did.

“I... just want to let you know... that I'm here... whatever is going to happen. ... I don't give up on you, Cas. Whatever it needs to get you through this... just keep going. Please, Babe. Keep going. I will be here, Cas.”

Deep in his heart he had hoped, that the door would swung open and Cas would let him in. But after all he had heard about this thing Cas was suffering from, the chance to get through him right now, equals zero.

“Cas...” he whispered again, feeling first tears coming up.

“Dean.”

The hunter thought he was hallucinating. The voice was so low, barely audible. Dean shook his head, shrugging it off as a delusion.

He was in the move to get up, when he heard it again.

“Thank you, Dean. For everything.”

This was the only thing Dean heard through the closed door, and he couldn't say, if he was happy or sad, about the few words.

 

The sun was already sunken behind the horizon, when the Winchester came together in the kitchen of the house. Sam had been on the run to buy some food from the next diner.

It was a silent meal. Everyone was sunken in their own thoughts, that they didn't notice the fourth person entering the room until the door fell shut.

Dean looked up, ready to grab the next thing to defend them, when he realized it was Cas.

The angel stood awkwardly in the room, one hand rubbing the back of his neck, his gaze glued on the boxes of pizza.

“I just want to apologize for my behavior and, I'm sorry that I didn't welcome you.” He looked over to Mary and Sam, who had stopped eating.

“Don't apologize, Castiel,” Mary said gently, pulling a chair back and offered a seat between her and Dean.

Cas hesitated and his whole expression showed his discomfort. He looked to the door, pondering if he should stay or leave.

“Thank you,” he then said, sitting down on the chair.

“How are you, Cas?” Dean's voice was worried and Castiel could feel the questioning look burning into his core. “I'm better, Dean. It was just a short moment of overwhelming memories.” He nodded with a smile, grabbing a piece of pizza from Dean's dish as if he wanted to show, that everything was normal again.

“Babe, we have seen the room and...”

“I am fine, Dean. And I don't want to talk about it.” His voice was sharp and he looked up to Dean, the blue in his eyes sparkling dangerously. “Everything is fine.” He smiled around, biting into his slice of pizza. “Oh, tuna. Tasty.”

Dean stared at Cas, opening his mouth to give an answer, but stopped, when he saw the hardly noticeable shake of Mary's head.

“So, how was the hunt?”

Castiel chewed his pizza, looking intensively to Sam.

“Huh, yeah. Good. We killed that thing quite fast, after finding it. And Mom is still great with a gun.”

“I'm happy to hear that.”

Dean shoved his pizza box to Cas and got up.

“Sorry. I'm not feeling good. Up in one of the rooms,” he mumbled more to himself then to others.

“Do you need me to heal you?” Castiel's head turned his face towards Dean, looking surprised that the hunter was leaving the table, with still half of the pizza to eat.

“No... Everything is...fine.”

He stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. One minute longer in that room and he would probably have said things, he would regret. Angrily, he climbed up the stairs and entered the first room, throwing himself on the small bed.

This was a fucking theater performance. A show.

Dean had seen Cas this morning, scared and irritated, his body shivering. The angel had locked himself away for the whole day and now everything should be fine? This was avoiding the inevitable. Cas was lying. Dean knew it, Cas knew it, everyone knew it.

But the Angel wanted to play it cool and Dean knew that this wouldn't work. It never has for him. The shadows of the past were lurking in a corner and they were patient. They had have nothing to lose. Waiting for the right moment and than.... boooom.

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to rub the upcoming headache away. He had to talk to his angel, to make clear, that this wasn't the way. But how should he do that, when he didn't know by himself, which the right way was?

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd as usual for now.   
> But I'm really trying to improve my writing.   
> Hope, it is not that bad to read. :-D


	9. Tears of an angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary and Castiel are talking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This and the following chapters are handling with PTSD.  
> I knew, that my description of PTSD isn't exactly seized on psychological science. It's my way and my imagination, of how Castiels dealed with it.  
> If you are triggered by those descriptions, please don't read it.  
> They way Cas will deal with it is NOT the way you should deal with it. If you suffer from PTSD or any kind of mental illness. Please, get help.

He had waited for the night, hoping that everyone would have fallen asleep due to the exhausting day.

It was short after midnight, when Castiel slowly left the small room he acquired during the last days. The whole house was covered in darkness and silence. Just pale moonlight was floating in through the windows, highlighting the edges and making the shadows even deeper.

Castiel moved slowly forward passing room after room. Doors were closed, but the soft sounds of sleeping were audible. Sam was snoring deeply and Dean – Cas was sure it was Dean – was whispering in his sleep again.

He slowly moved on, walking down the stairs, step after step and headed to the salon, where the doors led into the garden.

Maybe the air, the silence and the star dabbled heaven would calm him, would stop his thoughts racing in his head and his heart beating in his chest.

Silently, he stepped outside and was surprised and a bit bugged to see a shadow sitting on the porch stairs.

Only the silver light that had entangled in blond strands, made him realize that it was Mary, who sat their.

Castiel considered if he should join her or step back in. He was relieved, that it wasn't Dean. Meeting the hunter right now, wasn't what he wished for. The questioning and worried look on his freckled face, tensed jaws and pressed lips and the plead in his eyes to get answers, Cas couldn't give, made the Angel feel even more frightened.

 

“Hello, Mary”; he said warily, moving a step closer without making the attempt to sit down. Dean's mother looked up, a gentle smile on her face.

“Hello, Castiel. Beautiful night, isn't it?”

Her gaze wandered from Cas to the starry nightsky, taking a deep breath.

“Wanna sit down with me?”

She patted on the free space next to her, but Castiel shook his head slightly.

“I sat the whole day somewhere and I feel the need to move. May you walk with me a bit? I can show you the...the pond, if you want to.”

His voice was insecure and he avoided Mary's stare, til she nodded with a smile and got up.

“Would love to see it?”

 

They walked through the night in silence, next to each other. Their steps were slow and tentative and when they reached the edge of the trees, Mary lightened a flash light.

Cas led Mary to the willow, where he had sat with Dean not long ago. The moon was reflected by the water and the branches of the old tree were traversed by silvery dots, as if someone had put tiny fairy lights between the leaves.

“It's beautiful.”

Mary switched of the light and closed her eyes. She took some deep breathed, throwing her head back. Even in the night with all it's shadows this place was a gemstone. Radiating peace. Mary was wondering how it would look like, when sunlight was floating over the surface of the lake and the leaves changed their blue-grey night dress into a colorful fresh green.

“Yes it is. But I thought it would help more”, he whispered, more to himself than to Mary.

“What do you mean, Castiel?”

The Angel stood at the edge of the pond, his hands hoovering over the rushes. He stayed silent for a moment, looking to a point in the dark, as if he could see things, Mary couldn't.

Slowly, Mary approached Castiel, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“My boy,” she breathed calmly, patting Cas' shoulder blades.

The angel turned around and when he saw the maternal smile - a smile that was honest, showing Cas' that he wasn't judged or expelled – he couldn't hold back the tears.

“It's okay, Castiel. It's okay, my boy”, she whispered, pulling him close to herself, her arms wrapped around him.

She could feel his whole body shaking, while his hands curled into the fabric of her jacket.

With his arms still steadying him, he kneeled down, pulling the angel with her.

Castiel's body gave away and he curled himself up next to Mary. His head was resting on her lap, his own hands pressed against his face in the failing attempt to hide the tears.

“It's okay, my boy”, she repeated, shushing him gently.

She new Castiel was millenias old, but to her, he was like her third adopted child, who needs to be protect, like she would protect Dean and Sam.

“What is happening to me”, he sobbed. “Why does this pain isn't stopping?”

“I will tell you, Castiel. But for the moment. Just breath. Shhhh. It's gonna be okay.”

 

Mary tried to sound confident about knowing what Castiel's problem was. For sure, she had a theory, but no proof. But if it would help him, she would tell him lies, just to calm him down for the moment. He was his boy and above all, he was Dean's love of life.

She slowly stroked through the dark strands of hair, near to the temple, while her other hand was resting on his upper arm.

She was shushing him until his sobs got calmer and his breath stopped to hitch.

“Castiel. I want to help you. Want to make you feel better. But you have to help me, too. I don't want to force you, but talking... talking is a good start.”

She looked down, trying to find an expression on Castiel's face. The silvery moonlight made him look pale, deepening the shadows on his face. No one who would see him like that, all curled up and shaky, could imagine him as a warrior and Angel of the Lord.

“I... don't know how...” His voice was so thin and breathy, that Mary had problems to understand was he was saying.

“Take a deep breath and just try. What ever comes in your mind... and don't worry to bother me with anything.”

She felt his whole body moving, when he inhaled the cold, refreshing air.

“You are doing good...”

“I thought...I had handled it,” he began, “but when I found this room... it was like being there again. I saw them falling again. I hear the sounds, when their fiery body hit the ground, the water.... I saw them exploding in the sky into thousands of sparkles. And I heard their screams in my head.... so loud, so jarring.”

He pressed his hands against his forehead, shaking his head. Then, to Mary's surprise he got up, looking confused to Mary's lap and then in her face.

“I'm... sorry. This...”

“Don't apologize, Castiel. I want you to go on. You heard them screaming?”

“Angel radio... and I don't understand that. Am I going crazy again? It is so long ago...why now. Why must this happen now?”

He looked into Mary's face and she realized, that he wasn't just worried and scared about that grave he found. Losing, what he has build up the last few days, was his biggest fear.

“Sometimes people experience very terrifying and dangerous things. For some it is war, violence or illness, for others it is seeing people die, losing people you care for. Seeing your brothers and sister fall was a traumatic experience for you.” She took his hands in hers, rubbing over them with her thumbs. “I just can imagine how it might work when you are an angel. The soul of humans can manage to coop pain and traumas in so many different ways. They can hide the pain somewhere deep inside. Locking it away. Normally, the best way to handle such things is to come to terms with and not to suppress it somewhere. Well... we know for well, everything that's hidden comes back one day.”

This was probably the hardest rule of life that everything that goes around, comes around. No one could run away from feelings. This was a race you could just lose.

“I think, Castiel, your grace is like our soul. It had protected you.”

“My grace? My grace is healing my wounds. But if you say, that seeing my siblings fall is like a wound inside me, why had my grace failed there?”

The angel looked down on his chest, as if he was asking his grace, why it had betrayed him.

“It is just a thought, but maybe, because you are too human. You know, what it means to feel doubts, sorrow, but also fun and love. Maybe your grace isn't – it sounds weird – familiar with cooping and healing emotional stuff.”

It was a simple possibility to explain, why his grace wasn't working in the way, Castiel has estimated. Grace was an ingredients of celestial beings. And Angels weren't creatures known for emotionality. Maybe it was that easy to explain.

 

Castiel was lost in thoughts. He was holding Mary's hands and the huntress could see, that he was pondering, what has been said.

“How can I make this stop, Mary? I'm feeling damaged and lost, scared... I can't breath properly. And I am afraid that Dean will....”

“Sshshshs. Don't think about him right now. Dean loves you.”

She let one of Cas' hands go to put her on hand on his chest right above his heart. “He truly loves you. I have seen it, when we first met and I pointed a gun at you. Dean came along and I saw his eyes. There was this spark, this twitch around the corner of his mouth. He loves you and he will love you with every flaw and damage. But this here is not about Dean, it is about you, Castiel.”

“I don't want to be a burden. He is worried enough about the world, so he shouldn't be worried about me.”

“This is part of love and be loved. He is worried about you and he will be, what ever you do.”

Mary raised her hand from Cas heart to his cheek, whipping away some freshly fallen tears.

“When you want to heal, you have to break. It's like the phoenix, which goes off in flames and burned to ash. Afterwards a new phoenix appeared. Stronger and more beautiful. You have to break, to let go and when you are shattered into pieces, Dean, Sam and I will clean the edges and glue them together. Every single one.”

With a sigh Mary got up, pulling Castiel on his feet.

“It is the way I would do it. I don't know if it is the right one for you. This, you have to decide for yourself. But whatever you do. We are your family and we are here to catch you if you fall. You just have to let it happen.”

She grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly. Then she nodded to the direction of the house.

“I think some sleep would be good.”

“Good night, Mary. And thank you.”

“You're not coming?”

“No, I have to think about what you told me.”

For a moment she deferred. Her hand slid into the pocket of her jacket and she pulled out a small thing, handing it over to Cas.

“I found it down their in the room. I thought about the right moment to give it to you.”

Cas looked down, realizing it was a small book, bounded into leather.

“What is this?”

“You'll find out.”

 

Castiel watched Mary disappear into the darkness, the small circle of the flashlight dancing around between the trees. A few seconds later it was gone as well and the angel felt a sudden loneliness, that he had the urge to run after the huntress.

But instead he closed his eyes, breathing in deeply until his lungs were filled completely with fresh air. He hold the breath and exhaled loud and slow through his mouth. Thoughts were racing in his head and his mind was jumping from one information to the other.

A glimpse of gladness sparked in his heart. Mary's words and her maternal gestures had calmed him, giving him hope, but he still felt the fear that everything would get worse.

He looked down, flipping the small book in his hand. It was old and hackneyed. Carefully, he opened it and he saw that it was handwritten. Small lines with also small letters. He skimmed over the first lines, realizing it was a diary. Heman's diary

 

A moving shadow on the ground aroused his attention. Prophet crept out of the rushes, looking at him attentively. The cat approached and started to rub herself at Cas' legs. With a smile the angel keeled down, patting the stray.

“Hey, little one. Straying around again.”

Prophet purred because of the touch, flopping to the ground to expose her belly.

“You're a really cuddly cat. Aren't you, sweetie?”

Something was rustling in one of the bushes and Prophet jumped up and stared into the darkness. When nothing happened, she strolled away.

“You have a good life, Prophet. Always out, nothing to worry about”; he sighed, sitting down again on the damp grass.

The night has always been calming, but now the darkness felt more and more like a jail. A dark playground were monsters hiding behind every corner. The silvery moonlight was just there to lull anybody into a false sense of security.

Again, Castiel inhaled deeply, feeling his heart bumping in his throat and the blood rushing in his head. A short moment Castiel felt like passing out, but then he felt the soft warmth of his grace easing the pain to a lower level.

The fear, the grief was still there, burning inside him on low flames. His grace was the preventing, that the feelings were overboiling.

“I have to break to let go”; he murmured to himself.

Breaking into pieces and he really hoped, that Dean, Mary and Sam would know how to fix him, when he was just a pile of broken fragments.

The memories of being a human flashed back into his mind. Experiencing emotions, which were so overwhelming, that the angel had thought his head had to explode.

Breaking completely might be even worse.

He jumped up on his feet, a creed inside him, that leads him back to the house.

It felt like a revelation to him to know what he could do, instead of waiting for it self to stop.

With a sudden thrill of anticipation he jumped up the stairs. He would heal or die, but before figuring that out, he had to take care of something.

 


	10. Slow, love, slow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas is surprisingly happy. He and Dean are having some quality time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut... just smut...

It felt like a dream to him. Cas' warmth next to his body, soft hands trailing over his chest. The feeling of Cas' breath ghosting over his skin.

He grudgingly shifted in his bed, unwilling to let this dream go, when he realized that it wasn't just a dream.

Tiredly, he opened one eye and in the dim light of an early morning, he saw the tousled brown hair of his friend next to him.

Cas' had nestled up to him, one hand resting on his bare chest, finger slowly drawing circles.

“Did I wake you up?”

He turned his head, facing Dean with a mild smile.

“No, not really. What are you doing here?”

Cas cuddling at his side was the last thing he was awaiting after what had happened. The angel had backed down due to Heman's hidden room. And now, he was resting here, as if the last 24 hours hadn't happened.

“I'm sorry, if this bothered you,” Cas whispered, getting ready to leave the bed.

“No, that's not how I mean it.”

Dean wrapped his arms around the angel, pulling him closer to his own chest. With a deep breath he inhaled the sleepy warm scent of his friend, breathing afterwards a short kiss on the top of Cas' head.

“I'm glad, that you are here. It just surprises me a little”

Cas relaxed in his arms again, continuing to draw lines on Dean's chest.

“How are you feeling, Babe?”

“Fine, Dean. My grace is working well! I think, it was just a shocked reaction to what I saw yesterday. I'm sorry, that I worried you.”

Cas gaze followed his fingers, a smile on his face that Dean couldn't see.

It was of Cas' advance that Dean could see his face, cause he would note the lie in the blue eyes of the angel.

“You scared me a bit,” Dean admitted, stroking with his fingers through the dark hair and forming some of the strands to tiny little spikes.

“I scared myself as well.” Cas shifted a bit, until he could face Dean again, his chin resting on Dean's chest. He moved his hand to Dean's head, cradling Dean's face in his palm. The hunter closed his eyes to the soft touch, turning his head slightly to breath a kiss in Cas' hand.

“I thought, I am going to lose you again,” he sighed, “I don't want to feel that ever again.”

Cas pulled his hand back, just for moving closer to Dean. He lifted one leg over Dean's lap, straddling him, his face just inches away from each other. Cas pulled the blanket up and the fabric surrounded them like a cocoon.

“I can't promise that, Dean,” he answered, sorrow in his voice. “Not with the life we have. But I can promise you...” He leaned in for a short kiss. “What ever is going to happen. I will never stop being your angel. That's what I can promise.”

“My angel,” Dean whispered to himself, a smile spreading on his face. “Deal,” he grinned. His hands wandered to Cas shoulders, and he pulling him into a chaste kiss. Dean closed his eyes, relishing the sweetness of Cas' lips. The warm weight of the angel's body above him. It was all wrapped into the blankets, as if the two were living in their own private little universe.

 

“What shall we do today?” Dean asked, when he broke the kiss for getting some air.

Cas tilted his head and his gaze got unfocused. He was biting his lip.

“I want good things to happen...” he resolved.

“Huh. Like what?”

“Getting to the store and buying some things for the house. Sitting in the garden and watching the bees.”

He looked back to Dean and within a second the unfocused gaze became so piercing, that Dean had to gasp.

“And I want you.”

Cas' voice was low and ordering, but Dean got the small hint of need in the baritone.

“Cas?”

Dean wasn't sure. He wanted Cas as much as the angel wanted him. But after all what happened, was it really the right time, the right way.

“Dean. What we have can be gone so quickly. I don't want to waste time anymore. I want you. All of you. NOW!”

 

The angel leaned in, kissing his hunter furiously. He parted Dean's lips with his tongue, pushing it into the warm wetness of Dean's mouth.

Cas grabbed Dean's hands, interlacing fingers and pressed them left and right to Dean's hand into the mattress.

Slowly, the angel lowered his hips and Dean could feel through the fabric of his own shorts Cas erection pressing against his lap.

“Cas,” Dean hissed into the kiss, “are you naked?”

“Have been the whole night.”

Feeling his own erection rise, Dean responded willingly to the kiss. His tongue danced around Cas' , evoking sweet little noise from the angel.

Cas started to move his hips cautiously, rubbing his groin against the awaking hardness of Dean.

“I have imagined this for so long, Dean.” His lips tracing from Dean's mouth to the point where his jaw met his neck. There, at the soft skin, he began to bite small marks.

“So long, Dean.”

“Cas, Babe.” Dean turned his head to expose more of his sensitive skin and when Cas kissed down his neck, sucking at the pulse point, the hunter closed his eyes in pleasure. Dean's pulse was throbbing hard against Cas lips and he couldn't hold back a moan.

The angel rock back and forth, massaging Dean's erection with the weight of his moving pelvis.

“I can feel, you need it, too”, Cas purred into Dean's ear, tracing the tip of his tongue along the lob.

“Yeah,” the hunter whispered, unable to open his eyes again. His mind was still racing, caused by the sudden change of Cas' behavior.

The scared and browbeaten angel from a few hours ago, had changed into a demanding and hot presence. It was weird, but the feeling of need was so overwhelming that Dean pushed the thoughts away and locked them somewhere in the darkest corner.

 

Cas loosened his grip and slowly moved down along Dean's body, disappearing under the blanket.

“Too much fabric,” he was whispering and Dean could feel the angel's hands pushing down his pajama pants. Before he could even take a deep breath, he felt lips ghosting over his shaft, licking up the wet pre-cum which was already dripping out of his tip.

The only thing of Cas he could see, was the shape of his angel under the blanket. But he could feel him. Warm breath floating over his exposed hardness, fingers digging into the muscles of his thighs, lips peppering the skin with butterfly kisses.

“Can't wait to feel you inside me.”

The blanket was lifted and Cas kissed his way up Dean's body until he was facing the hunter again.

“Can't wait for you to fuck me,” he stated, attacking Dean's mouth again. His hand was slipping under the pillow and he brought out a small bottle of lube.

“Open me up for your cock, Dean.”

He gave the bottle to Dean with a pleading smile, his eyebrows raised with a glimpse of concern.

The hunter just nodded and with a relieved sigh Cas turned around, exposing his naked butt.

For a short moment Dean just stared at the perfect curved butt in front of him. Severe thighs and wonderfully firm buttocks. Dean opened the bottle and squeezed a blob on his hand. After throwing the bottle away, he dipped two fingers into the liquid.

First he decided to touch Castiel's opening directly, but then he snatched between his legs, collecting the dripping pre-cum of his lover.

Gently, he spread the liquid around Cas' entrance, before he slowly pushed the first digit of his pointer inside.

Cas was shuddering with a whimper, rocking back on Dean's finger greedily.

“Please Dean, more.”

Dean pushed his pointer in and out and when he felt Cas' muscles slacken, he entered a second finger, scissoring Cas' carefully.

Mesmerized, he observed his fingers disappearing inside Cas' ass, making his angel moan in pleasure.

He could do this forever Dean thought. fingerfucking his angel and listening to the desperate noises.

“Dean,” Cas pulled away and Dean's fingers slipped out. He looked up to Cas' seeing him turning around. Then he was pushed back into the pillow and Cas straddled his lap.

With one hand, Cas braced his body, while the other was gripping Dean's hard cock, guiding it to his ass.

“Cas, we have time,” Dean whispered, unsure if the angel was ready enough for taking him in. But Castiel just shook his head.

“Need you, now.” His voice was rough and husky.

Slowly, he lower himself on Dean's hardness.

Dean could see the angel's face twisted in pain, knowing that the stretch of the ring of muscles could be that comfortable. His hands rubbing over Cas' thighs.

“Slow, love, slow.”

Cas closed his eyes and his head fell back. He was breathing heavily and his lips were pressed together in a thin line.

“Slow,” Dean repeated.

“Need you,” was the only answer the hunter get before Cas sat down taking the whole length in.

The groan which escaped Cas' mouth was the most filthy and also sweetest sound Dean had ever heard.

 

Dean had the feeling that he could come only by listening to those thrilling noises.

With eyes still closed Cas was moving up and down on Dean's length, his hands searching for Deans.

When their fingers tangled, holding each other tightly, Cas opened his eyes again, his gaze resting on his hunters face. His mouth stood slightly open, tongue flicking over his dry lips. The blue in his eyes was cloudy and Dean could see his angel drifting away.

Dean sat up, releasing Cas' hands to be able to wrap his arms around the angels body, pulling him close.

Cas was bouncing up and down on Dean's cock, rubbing his own between their bellies.

“Can feel you...so deep inside me.”

Cas nuzzled his face against Dean's shoulder, muffling his own groans.

“My angel...”

Slowly, Dean's left hand moved down to Cas' buttock, squeezing it tightly, while his right hand wandered to Cas' neck, burying into the dark hair.

“I'm... so... close, Dean. So close...”

Cas' voice was a rough breath against his shoulder, sounding nearly crestfallen, that his climax was building so fast.

Dean turned his head, nibbling at Cas' ear.

“Don't hold back, angel. Wanna feel you coming on my cock, Cas.”

Cas wrapped his arms around his hunter, fingers digging painfully in the flesh of his shoulders. He was moving hard, pushing Dean even deeper inside him as before.

“De...,” he couldn't even finished calling for his hunter, when the knot in his stomach exploded. He was biting into Dean's shoulder to not shout the house down. His body was shaking with an unknown bliss, when the happiness hormones floating every cell of his body.

Dean was moving inside him, working Cas through his climax before he allowed him to come himself.

They clung firmly to each other, gasping for air.

Cas felt fuzzy, numb like he had drunk another liquor store.

“Thank you,” he whispered against Dean's skin, “for letting me experience this.”

Dean chuckled, due to his pathetic angel.

“Anytime, Babe!”

“Yeah,” Cas answered, having difficulties to hide the sudden sorrow in his voice.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im so surprised to see, where this story leads me. It was planned as a one shot. And now this is my tenth chapter.


	11. False trail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas is thinking about what Mary had told him. You have to break before you can heal. So, Castiel forged out a plan.

Dean felt like everything was in a haze, as if he was looking through a soft focus lens.

A new day and everything was so light, so different, filled with touches and sweetness.

After a round of postcoital snuggling, he and Cas had entered the bathroom for a short clean-up.

The quick-wash ended up under the shower. Sloppy kisses, soapy touches under warm water until they had turned pruney and the water cold.

 

When they entered the kitchen, holding hands, Mary and Sam, who already sat there, were looking surprised.

“Good morning,” Dean smiled, releasing Cas' hand to grab to mugs of coffee.

“Morning, boys.” Mary looked to his son, before she turned towards Cas with a slight concern on her face.

“Good morning, Mary. Sam,” Cas smiled, responding to Mary with a short nod.

Dean handed one mug over to Cas and settled down on the bench, tapping on the free place next to him, smirking to his angel.

“You have slept well?” Sam closed his laptop, which was standing in front of him. Even at the breakfast table he was doing research.

“Yeah. Was a good night.”

Dean smiled over the edge of his mug, blowing the liquid before he drunk a sip.

“My night was good as well.” Cas simpered, avoiding the gaze of Mary, which was resting on him. He wasn't sure, if Mary had told Sam, or would tell Dean about their meeting last night.

“That is good to hear, Castiel. What is the plan for today, if we or you have any?”

“Cas and I are driving down to the home improvement center in Phillipsburg. Getting some stuff for the house, right?”

Dean faced Cas, who was nodding gently.

“Yes, we do, Dean.”

“Yeah. Some manly quality time. And this afternoon, we just sit in the garden, drinking beer, watching bees...”

“Watching bees?” Sam raised his eyebrows and tilted his head slightly.

“Yes, watching bees. It's good for Cas' regeneration. Relaxing and doing nothing.”

 

 

Short after the breakfast coffee Dean and Cas had left the building, driving to Phillipsburg with their Pick up truck.

“Fast cure!”

Sam stood next to his Mom at the window, watching the Pick up rolling down the driveway and disappearing behind the fence.

“Mom?”

Sam touched his mother's shoulder and Mary turned around, smiling apologetically when she realized, that Sam had talked to her.

“Cas had healed very quickly,” Sam repeated.

“Maybe Angel didn't suffer that intense from PTSD than humans.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Sam had worked through articles about this mental disorder, read articles about symptoms and process. But it was true. Cas, as an angel, may have other abilities to handle this disorder. His Grace was strong and the short breakdown might be just a short reaction to the new found room in the basement.

“Mom.”

Sam had walked over to the table, tidying away the dishes and mugs.

“Yes, Sam?”

“I have seen you and Cas walking through the woods last night. Did he say anything? I... I don't want to be snoopy.”

Mary pushed a strand of her blond hair behind her ear. She lagged, searching for the right words.

“No. We... just walked around. He apologized for worrying us and he... he was wondering if I'm really okay with him and Dean being a couple now. Nothing more.”

 

It was late afternoon, when Dean and Cas returned to the house, the pick up, filled with color pots, wallpapers, curtains, carpets and an uncountable amount of decorative things like candles.

When Cas parked the car in the driveway, he honked and after a few seconds Mary and Sam appeared in the front door.

When Dean got out of the car, he climbed on the load space, raising his hands into the air.

“We should think about our own tool time show,” he grinned.

“Have you emptied the whole shop, guys.”

Sam took a look over the edge of the car and shook his head amused. Then he grabbed one of the color pots, realizing it was filled with light blue paint.

“For our room”, Dean smiled. “Matching Cas' eyes.”

“Dude, that's slushy. Are you drunk or stoned...or what?”

Dean jumped of the car, patting Sam's shoulder.

“A little bit drunk, maybe.” He winked, looking over to Cas, who had left the car as well and was now talking to Mary.

Together the four carried the supplies in and stored them in the empty living room. It was enough paint and paper to repaper the whole house. And although Dean would have been okay with just cleaning the rooms – he was used to old motel rooms – he had been happy to buy this stuff together with Cas.

They had walked through the rows of shelves slowly, examine the different colors and wallpapers. Cas was always at Dean's side, holding his hand or breathing a soft kiss on his cheek, when no one else was watching. They discussed if they wanted to paint Sam's room pink or in a bright smoothie-looking green.

Dean was so happy to be with his angel, showing everyone how lucky he was. He saw Cas smile, noticed his affection.

And didn't realized that the smile wasn't reaching the Angel's eyes, that there was still a gloomy shine around his gaze.

 

The four spent the rest of the day in the garden, relishing the warm sun of a summer evening. Mostly, they stayed silent. Sam had been on a job and was now sitting on the stairs of the porch, flipping through a new bought magazine about healthy living. After being on a walk through the garden area, Mary had sat down next to his son. She was playing with prophet, patting her striped fur.

Dean and Cas hat brought out some chairs and sat on them, there feet resting on the porch rail.

“I'm happy, that we could have something like this more often.” The elder hunter said, grabbing his beer bottle with the left, while his other hand was slowly resting on Cas' thigh.

“Yeah, if we improve the warding a bit. Maybe we could carve warding into the trees. I've found an article in the net about it. If we find the right angle, they would work as a big pentagram.”

Sam explained, pointing to the big main trees.

“Or we could plant herbs in a circle around the house, like a natural holy ring.”

Dean rolled his eyes dramatically.  
“Why don't we just sit here in silence, not thinking about warding, sigils and those stuff. For one fucking day, there is enough shielding for the house.”

He felt Cas' squeezing his hand and rubbing with his thumb over it's back. When Dean turned his face to look at his friend, he saw that Castiel was staring into nowhere. Not even listening to their talk.

“Babe? Are you okay?”

After a short moment Cas shook his head slightly, as if he was shaking of a bad memory.

“Yeah... I was just lost in thoughts about the day. I know, it is quiet early, but... I think, I go upstairs. Wanna come with me?”

Dean emptied his bottle with one gulp and got up, pulling Castiel on his feet.

“What kind of question is this?... Night, Sammy. Night, Mom.”

 

Dean woke up, due to a strange feeling. He had felt in the doze the bed dipping next to him, had heard some rustling. First he thought that Cas might have gone to the bathtub, but then he remembered that Angel didn't need to pee. So he opened up his eyes and saw to his surprise Cas sitting on the edge of the bed, watching him.

“Cas, that's still weird,” he mumbled, reaching out for Cas to pull him back. When he touched the arm, of the angel, he felt the soft and so familiar fabric of the trench coat.

“Did something happen? Why are wearing the coat?” Dean sat up immediately, looking confused and alarmed to his friend.

Cas was smiling.

“I felt naked without it,” he just answered.

He slowly leaned in to kiss Dean and while his lips were touching Dean's Cas fingers were wandering up.

“ I'm sorry,” he whispered, pressing two fingers against Dean's forehead and the hunter slumped back into the mattress.

Cas got up, rearranging the blanket over the sleeping body and left the room. He didn't know exactly how long Dean would sleep like being in a coma. Maybe six hours, maybe ten hours. Enough time to do what he had planned.

The whole day his mind was circling around the words Mary had said the night before. He had played the smiling boy-friend, the recovered angel to calm them all and lead them on the wrong path. He hadn't been recovered at all. Everything was there, like a gray patina on his mind. And he wanted to get rid of this mental dust, of this crushing feelings.

 

Calmly, he sneaked into Sam's room and stunned him with his grace as well. Then he moved to Mary's room, relieved to see, that she was also sleeping.

Cas felt like betraying his family, when he put his fingers on the forehead of the remained Winchester, sending her into a deep sleep. He stayed for a few moments, watching the woman, who had called him as her own son.

“I'm sorry.”

He left the room, closing the door behind him.

The house was silent and Cas never felt that lost and alone in his life before. Walking to the scaffold must be the same. Knowing, that you walk to your own execution.

Cas couldn't tell, how it would be, how it felt to shatter into pieces. During his long angelic life, he had been stabbed, hurt and even killed. But even with his intact grace the mental pain was so strong and breathtaking.

Cas walked down the stairs and entered the salon, where the piano stood like a dark altar. The door to the garden was closed and Cas did the same with the door to the hallway. This was his chamber of castigation. Maybe this is, how it should be.

He was a sinner, a doubter, plunging heaven into ruin. Now, he had to eat crow, begging for absolution.

He pulled of his coat and put into on top of the piano, next to the book Mary had given him. Then he sat down on the small piano bench, folding his hands in front of his face. He leant his forehead against the knuckles of his hands, and closed his eyes.

“Dear father. I know, I'm not worth to pray for forgiveness. I have sinned a thousand times, I have caused my brothers and sisters to fall. If this is your retribution, I will accept it unconditionally. I have no right to beg for anything, but I am scared and I hope you can give me faith in my own strength.”

He sighed and listened into the night. Eventually, God was still on family vacation with Amara. This was more important, than listening to the sorrows of one single angel. How often had God rebuild Castiel. Uncountable times and Cas couldn't estimate, that he would help him again. Although he had hoped for a sign of support.

Everything stayed silent. No sign, no glimpse of hope, nothing.

Solemnly, Cas got up and rolled up his sleeve, pushing the fabric up to his elbow. Then he took the angel blade and began to slowly carve enochian sigils into the skin of his arm.

 

 


	12. Voices in my head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel tried to get rid of his "demons"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I mentioned in former chapters: If you have problems with PSTD or Anxiety, this might be triggering you.  
> This chapter is a "bloody" and sad one and Cas had to suffer a lot. Please, do not read, if you don't like that.
> 
> The text passages written in italic are the diary entries or the voices Cas is hallucinating

The metal of the angel blade felt cold on his skin. To his astonishment, it wasn't as worse as he thought it would be. A slight burn which surprisingly calmed his racing mind. A pain to focus on. The cold mixed up with the soft warmth of his own blood, running down his arms and dripping from his fingers to the floor. In the soft glow of the moonlight and his own grace, which poured out of his wounds, the blood on the floor looked like little dots of a ladybug.

His fingers were trembling and he wrapped them harder around the blade, carving the sigils into his skin stoically.

“Not now,” he mumbled to himself, when he felt his grace starting to heal himself and it needed his whole will power to stop himself from closing his wounds.

His actions got faster and when the last sigil was fulfilled, Cas felt the warmth of his grace leaving his body, consigning a numb cold.

He was waiting for the storm to come, but nothing happened. Nothing he couldn't handle. There was still the oppressive feeling in his chest, the rapid heartbeat, the sluggish breath.

Cas blade slipped out of his hands, falling to the floor with a metallic noise and rolled under the piano. The angel got up and moved slowly to the cupboard where some candles were standing. He inflamed them and moved back to the piano, grabbing the book Mary had given him. Then he sat down on the floor, just where he stood, and opened the first side.

 

_The people think that they see Meteors falling from the sky. I know better. My brothers and sisters are falling. I had heard their screams in my head and I felt my own wings (although I haven't used them for thousands of years) burning at my back._

_It seems that heaven is locked down._

_Well, I should be sad about it. But I am not. Not as much as I should be._

_I felt confirmation flooding me. A long time ago I left heaven because I didn't fit. I felt as an individual with own thoughts, with questions... and my brothers and sisters were perfect... too perfect. And they knew it and were bathing in their own splendor. Hubris came before the fall._

_Their minds had been lazy, everything had been the same for decades, no... millenia._

_Sooner or later this had to happen._

 

Cas could remember this day, as if it was yesterday. He had seen his siblings fall and he had caused it. Some had crashed onto the surface of the earth, some had exploded in midair like fireworks. He had heard their cries, felt their pain and their anger. All of them had known, that he was the cause.

Maybe it was the biggest mistake in his life to trust Metatron. He should have known, but he was too naive.

Cas flipped a page around, hissing when the wounds on his arm were scraping over the fabric of his trousers. The burn got stronger and every sigil was pulsating. Blood was dripping out with every heartbeat and Cas felt dizzy.

He shook his head. If this was, how breaking should be, he had been broken and shattered a long time ago. The pain, he had felt, when he was stabbed by April, the torments of Jonah and Efram... everything of this was harder and more distressing.

 

_They stood in front of my door. A few of them. I wonder that they still knew me. Well, in times of sorrow you always remembered the ones who might help you. I thought, of ignoring them, but I let them in._

_They were walking through my house in their freshly chosen vessels, like children who saw a thunderstorm for the first time. They were grown up, but in their eyes is the fear of a lost child. Fear , some show anger, some wrath._

_The important thing is, to get along with the situation. What did they do? Mourning over their loss and denouncing the angel, who had caused their pain._

_I can't count how often I had heard the name Castiel these days._

_Castiel, the angel who always had been different. The angel who often was the center point of internal rumors. I should have known that he was the cause._

 

Cause...cause...cause...

Cas could literally hear the voice of Heman in his head. He was the cause. Always. The center of rumors. This was the proof that he was hated.

Had he ever had friends in heaven?

Cas felt the heat rising, flushing his cheeks. Was there anyone, who called him a friend? A brother?

“They played... they hated me... They were putting good faces on the matter.”

He pressed his hand on his forehead, feeling his head burning in fever. Blood was now sticking in his face and the sudden gust of metallic odor, made Cas feel sick.

Stars were dancing in front of his eyes. Colorful points, changing into circles and flashes. Castiel shook his head, squeezing his eyes together.

He took a few deep breathes through the mouth, avoiding to inhale the scent of his own blood. He was cooling, calming and hissed a relieved sigh, then he flipped to the next page.

 

_Ten days. Some try to handle their new life. Others are just sitting and complaining about their faith. They just see the worse of a life as human. The uncountable things you have to do to survive. Breathing, eating, sleeping, showering._

_I now realize how silken angels were and how they see humans as inferior. This made me hate my own kind. But there are the others, who really tried to fit into their new life. They try and they failed. I can hear them in my head. The grief, the longing. The enormous wish to come home again. So fragile and lost. I feel pity and I wish I would find a away to help them. Just them. But helping them, opening the gates of heaven, although I don't know, how this should work, would mean to restart this pretentious angelic chaos._

_God is gone and there is no leader I would trust enough. Castiel would have been one, with the potential to guide them into a worthy future. But he had failed in his own way, too. He had made decisions, which brought him further away from heaven as any angel before._

_What should I do? Why I?_

 

Cas closed the book, looking on the sigils on his arms were the blood already had tried.

“They have trusted me and I have disappointed everyone...”

The picture of Dean appeared in front of his eyes. When he would wake up in a few hours, he would see the betrayal. Cas had lied again, broken a promise, making a wrong decision.

He heard Naomi's voice, describing him as an angel with a crack in the chassis. Why did anyone put hope into him, when they knew that he was defect from the beginning?

Cas thought he knew the answer. It was the game they play. Seeing him fail was their entertainment. They wanted him to fail.... everyone....

“No...no... this can not be the truth. Nooo.”

His hands were shaking and he nearly let the book fall to the ground.

He had keep reading. Maybe he would found answers.

He flipped through the pages, trying to find the last one he had read. The writing was smaller and more disheveled as the sites before.

 

_This will be the last entry. I can't stand this no longer. They are here in my house and I haven't the power to kick them out. They were mourning, crying all day. Their heads are filled with just two thoughts. Getting back into heaven and killing the one who caused it._

_I know how to give them their heaven and avoid a lynching._

_If you can't go back in life, you will go back in death. It's a sin to kill yourself and would lead directly into hell. But if I do the final step, they would be free._

_I know, I would give up my own peace._

_I'm tired, so tired. I have seen everything. Heaven and earth. I don't care if I will spend eternity in hell._

_I just want it to stop, before I go insane._

_It's planned and they were more than thankful. For them it is an salvation... For me._

_Everything is prepared. The place is chosen and I consecrated everything._

_I hope, I will find forgiveness._

_Addendum: It's done. May they find peace in heaven. The house is silent and now I'm a murderer and..._

 

The wave of emotions hit him so quickly that he couldn't even turn the last page to read the rest of the entry. His heart was pounding in his chest so hard that Cas thought it would break his rib cage. It was rumbling, skipping a beat and the angel suddenly felt an anxiety he never had felt before. This was how dying must feel. Cas was sure, waiting for his last heartbeat. But he lived on.

His mind started to race in his head again. He was a traitor, a failure. He made brave souls to murderer.

“ _Crack in the chassis”._

He was a disappointment, not worth for nothing.

_“You killed us, fratricide.”_

His gaze wandered around and the shadows in the corners of the with candles illuminated room were wafting, forming figures and faces.

“No. I'm sorry...I'm sorry...,” he whimpered, scooting back on the floor, slipping out on his own blood.

_“Worthless”_

_“Traitor”..._

 

Voices in his head. Loud, hammering and nothing there to stop.

Cas felt the sudden need to run. Maybe, he was faster and could escape those voices in his head. But were should he run to.

He thought of Dean. _“_

_You're a disappointment for me, Babe.”_

Yes, he was a disappointment. A burden.

What, if he just disappeared.

Castiel nodded. Crawling to the door of the porch. His fingers curled around the handle, but it was closed.

“Help me...”

His fingers leaving bloody prints on the glass.

“Let me out.... please. I need to get out. Out.....out... I....breath....”

Catching air got difficult.

“Must getting up”, he thought, getting on his feet, with his hands pressed against the window to steadying himself.

When he turned around to move to the door, he saw Heman standing in the middle of the room.

Sad, with dead eyes was he pointing towards Castiel. _“_

_You always was the center of rumor, traitor.”_

“No....go away. You're dead...go...”

Castiel moved forward, tried to hit the figure with his fist. Heman disappeared into thin air and Cas stroke the wooden piano. A pain shot threw his hand, calming the voices in his head.

He aimed and hit the piano again, as hard as he could. Wood was breaking, bones were cracking. Blood dripping out of the wounds the splinters of wood and bone leaving in his hands. The pain was mixing up with the fear and anger.

He couldn't find a straight thought about what to do. Everything was moving in his head, the feelings in his body were changing. Running, dying, living, destroying, crying. He wanted everything and nothing. All at the same time.

“Help me....please.” He pressed his face into his hands, ignoring the growing pain that made him swaying. Tears were mixing up with crusted and new blood. When would this end?

Cas was sure that this was his eternity? And with this thought, he collapsed onto the ground, drifting into a silent agony.

 

 


	13. shattered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean woke up and found his angel completely broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said in the former chapters. IF you are triggered by PTSD or Anxiety, this story/chapters might trigger you

“Caaaas?”

Dean sat straight in his bed, his heart beating in his chest. Alarmed, he looked around in the dark. Moonlight was floating into his room and the wooden window was throwing a cross on his blanket. It was silent in the room. Way too silent for Dean's opinion.

“Cas?”

No answer and suddenly he realized, that the dream he had, wasn't just a dream.

The angel had stunned him. Two fingers on his forehead, his gaze scared and excusing.

“Shit.” Dean threw the blanket away and jumped out of the bed, a wicked feeling forming in his gut.

Something was wrong, terribly wrong. Dean had been overwhelmed by Cas, the feeling of his body, the closeness. He was dulled and inattentive, really believing that the angel was fine.

This was naive. And now Dean knew, that Cas had just played the healed angel.

 

Dean opened the door and stepped into the hallway. Everything was dead-silent.

No snoring from out of the other rooms. No cracking wood of the old house.

“Cas, Babe?”

He slowly walked down the stairs and a dark foreboding led him to the piano-salon.

The door was closed, even locked.

“Babe, are you in there?”

Dean knocked against the dark wood, waiting for a response.

No answer.

Just as Dean turned around to take a look if Cas' car was still standing in the drive-way, he heard the muffled cry. It was muted, but Dean ran a shower down his spine. He would have recognize Cas voice out of any other. He knew the dark baritone, the husky rasp...

“Caaasss?”

Dean jounced the handle of the door, but it didn't swung open.

Adrenalin was floating through Dean's veins, when he heard a silent outcry instead of an answer.

The hunter took a few step backs, aiming the door and threw himself against the wood. A jolt shot threw his shoulder, but the door cracked and swung open and Dean stumbled into the dim room.

 

He need a second to see him. His angel. Lying on the floor, curled together, his arms wrapped around his knees, pressing them against his chest.

The piano was destroyed. Legs snapped off, tiles lying on the floor. A puddle of blood glistened on the floor in the flickering light of the candles. There was blood spread in the whole room.

“Cas...Babe...?”

Dean croaked, running over to his lover and falling on his knees next to him. Cas was whimpering, his eyes closed. He was rocking slowly back and forth with his head, his face and his body blood crusted.

Dean reached out for him, touching him gently at his shoulder, but Cas didn't react.

 

What the hell had happened here?

Dean thought about a demon attack, but when he looked down to Cas arms, he saw the dark red marks on his skin, carved deeply into the flesh.

Cas was trembling, his teeth chattered rapidly.

“Saaaammmyyyy;” Dean yelled, hoping his brother upstairs would hear him.

The sudden noise made Cas cringe and he tried to crawl away.

“Sorry, Babe.... sorry... I...Cas, it's me... Dean.”

The hunter observed the picture of misery in front of him, unsure what to do. He was afraid to hurt him, to do something that made it worse.

But, could it get worse?

Dean bend forward, grabbing Cas at his shoulders and pulling him back until he rested against the hunters chest.

Cas was groaning in pain, due to the sudden movement and when he felt Dean's strong arms being wrapped around him, he started to wreathe in the embrace.

“Let... go... nooo...,” he babbled, beginning to kick around with his feet.

“It's me, Babe. I'm here. I'm with you....Cas... It's me...your stupid human...Cas...Cas.”

“I'm sorry... sorry... go...please let me go.”

Dean pulled him even closer, found the strength to hold him in place. Strength, which wasn't left in the tired angelic body. Cas winced, cried and after a last rear up, he fall back against Dean.

The hunter looked over to the damaged door, hoping Sam would appear. But it was likely that he was stunned, too.

“Dean?”

The voice was wrecked and trembling.

“Yeah... Cas. I got you. Got you, Babe.” His hand moved to Cas head, sliding into the dark hair. The Angel turned his head, nuzzling his face into the fabric of Dean's shirt. It was warm and smelled like something familiar, something guarding.

“Dean?” He asked again, muffled by the shirt in front of his mouth.

This warmth was so comforting and the fear to lose this comfort again, let the tears in his eyes dwell again.

“Shhh, shhh. It's okay, love. It's over.”

The hunter felt Cas shaking his head.

“No...it will never end!”

 

Cas' voice was desperate and the first time in Dean's life, the angel sounded defeated and it seemed to the hunter that he had given up. Cas had to get upstairs, the wounds had to be cleaned and he had to rest. But Dean couldn't get him up alone and Cas wasn't able to help.

Carefully, Dean loosened his grip.

“I have to wake Sam, so we can get you up. I'll be back in a minute”

While Dean was getting up, he suddenly felt Cas' hand, grabbing his wrist.

“Don't leave me,” the angel cried, staring to Dean in panic. “Please, don't leave me alone.”

“'kay. Okay, Babe. I'm not going anywhere. But we must get you up. I...I...will steady you. You gonna help me, right.”

Cas looked to Dean, his pupils dancing irritable, but than he nodded slightly.

 

It needed Dean a perceived eternity to get Cas into the bedroom. The angel was swaying and his legs were doddery. They tried to go a few steps, but Cas was again collapsing into Dean's arms, so the hunters last option was to carry him upstairs.

Dean was covered with sweat, when he put Cas down on the mattress. Cas was moaning in pain and when he realized the sudden loss of Dean's arms, his eyes shot opened and he started to tremble again.

“I'm still here, babe. We have to get you out of the dirty clothes and I have to clean you up.” He gently patted Cas hands, felt the bloody bruises under his fingertips.

“Look at me, Cas.” Dean tried to sound calm and soothing. He had to be the rock in the storm right no, although he was frightened as hell.

The angel looked to Dean, trying to focus on the soft shape of the hunter.

“I have to go to the bathroom. Getting hot water and towels and things to patch you up.”

“Don't... please...”

“Shhh, Babe. I promise, I'll be back. I promise with everything I have. Just...hold on a little bit longer.” He breathed a kiss on the scratched knuckles. “You're so strong, Babe. Will you do this for me?”

“Please, hurry.”

Dean nodded, releasing Cas hands and left the room.

 

He nearly was running to the bathroom, looking for something to fill the hot water in, but there was nothing. So he started the shower to heat the water and ran down into the kitchen. He grabbed some kitchen towels and a big bowl were Sam had put in some fruits.The apples and bananas flew through the room, when Dean emptied the bowl. Than he headed back to the salon, grabbing his bag, which still was lying in the corner of the room.

He ran back upstairs to the bathroom, filling the bowl with the water and headed back to Cas.

For a moment he thought of waking Sam, but how could his brother help now. There was no time for waking him, or explaining him, what had happened. Dean didn't even know by himself what had happened.

 

When he came back into Castiel's room, the angel was frozen in the same position as before. Laying flat on the mattress, his eyes focusing a point somewhere at the ceiling. His hands were curled around the edge of the blanket, which he had pulled up to his nose.

“Told you, I'm coming back. How are you?” Dean smiled awkwardly. He moved over to the bedside, pulling a chair closer to put down the bowl and the towels.

Cas didn't show the slightest inclination to answer. Instead he turned his head towards Dean, observing him strainedly and warily.

“Good, huh, you you don't have to talk to me, if you don't want to,” Dean nodded, biting his lower in a contemplative gesture, suppressing his own worries and curiosity.

Slowly, he sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Babe, I have to patch up the wounds. Don't want them to get inflamed. Therefore, I need to get you out of your clothes.”

“Tired,” Cas muffled into the blanket and Dean could feel him shivering under it.

“I picture that. Well... what do you think, when I cut the fabric open with my knife. You can lay still, maybe sleep.”

Dean slowly fished the knife out his bag. It was just a small Swiss army knife, but Cas flinched and gasped when he saw the small silvery blade.

“Don't... don't kill me...,” the angel whined, collecting the last bit of strength to scoot away.

“Cas...Babe,” Dean looked down to the knife and threw it back into the bag. “Look, I put it away. How can you think I will harm you. I...I never would.”

Cas leaned against the head of the bed as if he wanted to melt together with the wood, escaping from Dean and this situation.

“Keep you eyes on my, Cas. Look at me and you will see that I speak the truth. I will just help you. Please, Babe. Please, let me help you.”

For a moment Castiel starred into Dean's eyes as if he was examine something strange and unknown. Suddenly his tensed face smoothed and more tears were rolling down his cheeks.

“Dean?” It was more a question than a statement.

“Yeah, it's me.”

Cas sniffed and before Dean knew what was happening, Cas had crawled over, his face twisted in pain.

“Help me,” he begged, curling up on the mattress, his head on Dean's lap. The angel was nuzzling his face into the warmth of Dean's shirt, like he did before.

 

The water had gone cold, till Cas was able to let it happen that Dean helped him out of his clothes and patched the wounds up.

Dean worked as fast and as careful as he could. He washed the crusted blood from the angel's arm, memorizing the sigils Cas had carved in the skin. Then he put a balm, he had in his bag on the wounds, wrapping a clean bandage around the arm and Cas hands. The angel had stayed silent the whole time.

No moaning of pain, no more tears, nothing. He was just staring at Dean with a lifeless gaze. When the hunter had finished his work, Cas turned around, nearly hiding his whole body under the blanket, turning his back to Dean.

“Can you leave, please,” he whispered to Dean's surprise.

“Cas? I …;” he started, wanting to explain, that he would never ever leave again, but Cas interrupted him.

“Please. I... need space.” It sounded like a feeble excuse to Dean, but he was to tired to discuss anything.

“Okay, I'm down in the kitchen. If you need me, just call... please. Call me.”

Cas didn't answer, so Dean left the room, leaving the door standing ajar.

 

 

 

 


	14. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They are all try to find a way to cure Cas.   
> A surprising visitor might reshuffle the pack

“You told him to break?”

Dean looked over to his mother in shock.

“Yes, but... I never thought, he would do something like that. Something so fatal.”

Mary's gaze wandered over the damaged piano to the puddle of blood, which had seep into the wooden floor.

After waking up with a headache and moving to the kitchen, Dean had told her and Sam, what had happened that night.

“It's Cas. You knew that he is not familiar with this whole shit. And you told him... whoa, that's too much.”

Dean was chewing on his lower lip, holding back the curses and words, he had in mind.

Mary was right in a way. Only a cleaned wound could heal. But it was Cas. The angel wasn't used to human psychology, to feelings and handling their severity. Although she didn't know Cas that long, she should have acted more thoughtful.

“I'm upstairs.”

Dean moved out, leaving his brother and his mother behind.

This was totally going wrong and he hadn't a clue, how to deal with this.

 

Slowly, he climbed the stairs, crossed the hallway and entered the room, Cas was in.

The angel rested on the bed, curled up under the blanket. He was staring out of the window, like he had an hour ago and the hour before and the hour before.

“Hey, Babe,” Dean said softly. He closed the door behind him and moved over to the chair, which was standing next to the bed.

Since Cas had woken up, he had stayed silent. He had shown no reaction. Just laying on the bed and staring.

“I wonder, if you want to drink something. Or maybe eat something? I... could make you a coffee, or get you some food. Burger? Pizza? What ever you want?”

No answer. Not even a slight reaction.

“Cas. I...still don't know what happened down there tonight. Mom, told me, what she had told you that night. This breaking and healing thing.” Dean sighed and got up to sit down on the bed, next to Cas.

“Look. She is right. But it's not that easy as it may sound. Healing might be easier after breaking down. But... jeez. If...if the Golden Gate Bridge or maybe the Eiffel Tower would collide, no one would be able to build it up in one night. It needs time, a lot of time. Step after step, brick after brick. You have to be patient. Just keep going.”

Cas shifted, looking from the window to Dean. His eyes were bloodshot and empty, the blue sparks gone.

“Keep going? What, if I don't know, where to go? What, if I don't want to?”

Cas' voice was raspy but surprisingly calm. Way to calm for Dean's opinion.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing... I'm tired!”

He turned his back on Dean, showing him that he wasn't interested in a further conversation. Dean stayed for a moment, hoping the angel might say another word. But when Cas' stayed silent and wrapped his blanket tighter around himself, Dean got up.

“I love you, Cas. Remember that,” he said sadly, when he left the room and closed the door behind him.

 

Dean sat in the kitchen table for hours, flipping through piles of books and parchments Sam had get out of the Bunker in the morning. The laptop was on, scanning archives of universities and other institutes. Dean had hoped to find a useful information about how to help Cas. But nothing. Everything they did, ended in a dead end. Mary had called some old hunter friends, if they maybe new a hunter, who was working as a doctor or therapist. But soon it got clear that they all had more practical jobs, if any at all.

“You should take a nap or get some air.” Sam had entered the room, watching his brother with concern.

“No time for that....”

Dean didn't even looked up. Instead he opened a new book, scrolling with his finger over the index.

The feeling that he had missed a hint in the books was fretting him. He heard Sam moving a chair and sitting down opposite to him.

“Maybe,” he started, his voice gentle and cool-headed, “ maybe, we should consider taking Cas to a hospital. Mom had called every hunter we knew. But there is no one to help. And this here, this is beyond our knowledge.”

“No.” Dean simply answered, without even looking up. Instead he was flipping through the book more forcefully.

“Dean, Cas had self-harmed. He is suffering and...”

The book Dean hold in his hand landed with a bang on the floor.

“I said, no. There is a way. Maybe with the help of Rowena or Crowley. Dunno? But, I won't carry him to a headshrinker. They will lock him away...”

Dean got up, pacing around in the small kitchen, one hand rubbing the back of his neck, the other was curled into a fist next to him.

“I don't want to see him like that again. I don't want him to sit there, not remembering me, holding up a 'Sorry'-Game.”

“Dean. This is not about you right now. It's about Cas.”

“Yeah. And Cas needs us. Needs his family. You know what he talked about the last days?”

Sam shook his head. Dean and Cas hadn't talked to him about what had happened the weekend they had stayed together.

“He told me, that he felt exchangeable. That he felt like a small, useless thing in the big machinery. Sam, he thinks, he is worthless and not endearing. What do you think, how he would feel, if we deport him to a funny farm? No way, Sammy. I... I can't do that.”

The silence that's spread in the kitchen was thick as syrup. Sam nodded, but the look on his face told Dean, that his younger brother wasn't happy with the decision.

“So, what are we gonna do?”

Dean pulled out his phone.

“Maybe, ginger-bitch can brew a tea or something.”

 

It was worth a try, but he should have known better.

Rowena had listened and even called him back after doing her own research. There was no helpful witch-magic which could heal Cas permanently. Some existing spells might lighten his mood, but in a manic way, other could erase his mind.

Rowena had explained Dean, that it was to difficult to modulate the spells that they fit to the situation of Cas. One wrong ingredient, one ounce too much and Cas would be worse than now.

Again, hours had passed without a clue.

“What if we just wait until his wounds have healed. His grace will be back and shield his mind again.”

The three sat outside on the porch, discussing the stage of affairs.

Dean had spent the rest of the afternoon with Cas, watching him sleep, watching him staring against the wall.

“And then? The first attack was with his grace still inside him? So his grace couldn't protect him properly. What if he gets a flashback during a fight?”

Dean observed the ice cube in his whiskey swirling around whenever he moved the glass.

“I know that you can't heal it like a broken rib. Depressions, anxiety or this PTSD shit will always be in your mind. But Cas has to learn how to handle it, how to live with it. How should we manage that in the time we have? Shall we cut his wounds open to prevent his grace from healing until he got a plan?”

“You told me, what he need is family, is us. This is the only thing we have right now!” Sam considered.

“Great plan. He isn't even listening to me! He is looking at me, when he is looking at all, as if I'm some kind of ghostly memory. I'm talking to him, but it doesn't reach him. It is just bouncing off.”

 

“You need to eat something, Cas.”

Dean stood next to the bed, holding a plate with sandwiches in his hand.

“Not hungry,” Cas mumbled.

“You know, I will stay here the whole night, repeating it again and again. So better you eat it now. Just a few bites.”

Dean felt like talking to a toddler, convincing him that sandwiches weren't sad better. If you promised a toddler that he could watch his favorite comic-show, he probably ate the whole late within seconds. There was nothing to held out in prospect for Cas.

Cas sighed and set up, scooted back to the head of the back to leave space for Dean to sit.

He took the plate out of Dean's hand, rested it on his own lap and took a bite of the sandwich.

“Happy now,” he grumbled, putting the sandwich back on the plate in disgust.

“No, but it's a start.”

It was a progress and Dean was catching every straw he could get.

“If have thought about this,” Cas said after a while in a monotone voice.

“Have you?” Dean wasn't if he would like the results of Cas' thinking. He shuffled on his seat, looking alerted to Cas.

“I think, it is better, when you three get back to the bunker. Back to business.”

“I think... you are talking shit. You really believe I let you stay here. On your own, in your state of mind? If this is joke, it's not funny.”

“I'm not joking, Dean.”

Cas sat straight in the bed, gazing to Dean with a black look.

“It is the best for us all. I... I'm just causing pain...for any man. Dean. I'm no help. No help with Lucifer.”

He tried to stay strong. He didn't want to distance himself from the point he had thought about the whole day. He wanted to convince Dean to go. That it was the only way. But he was betraying himself as the first tears started to run down his face.

“Dean, just let...,” he couldn't finish the sentence without a sob.

Immediately Dean was there, wrapping his arms around his angel.

“You can put the idea right out of your mind, Babe. I'm here and I stay here, as long as it needs for you to deal with it. And if this means, I have to stay here with you forever, than that's how it should be.”

He lifted his hands to Cas face, held him in his palms. His thumbs were collecting the tears from Cas' cheeks. “I'm not leaving, Cas.”

Dean let go of Cas' face to put the plate back on the nightstand. Then he pressed Cas' softly into the mattress and slipped under the blanket next to the angel.

He was aware, that this might be a intrusion in Cas' personal space. But when he lay down the angel crept over.

“I wish you would leave, but at the same time I was scared you would,” Cas whispered, resting his head on Dean's chest, snuggling up as close as he could.

“I won't,” Dean whispered, wrapping his arms around the shivering angelic body.

They stayed silent for a while, just breathing, being close to each.

“I don't know what's going on,” Cas said after a while, more to himself than to Dean. “Everything around me is pale and dreary. As if a gray gaze is resting on everything. I'm tired, even breathing or just thinking is so exhausting. But I want it to be better, because I can remember how it was. It felt like I had been staying a eternity like that. And I want it to be gone. But...”, he sighed and his hand was searching for Dean's. “I don't know how. Soon my grace will take over my body again, but I knew,... I will never be the same... And this scares me so much.” Cas stumbled, gasping for breath.

“Everything is gone... I can't feel a thing, I can't feel you... I... everything is so numb, Dean... like I'm dead...This scares me.”

Dean's hand roamed to Cas' neck, stroking softly over the warm skin to calm him down.

“Shush, Cas.”, He breathed a kiss on top of the dark mess of hair. “You're not alone. We have been through man things and we will find a way to cope with this. I know, you can't imagine right now, that there will be a light at the end of this tunnel. But there will. I promise.... It's hard, but you have to trust me... trust me and talk to me. Don't hold back, tell me, what you need, what you want. Tell me, when you are scared and don't think, you aren't worth to get help. You aren't a burden to me, Cas. To no one of us. You are family. You are my family.”

Dean squeezed Cas' hand, and he felt the angel nodding against his chest. It didn't take long and he heard the soft snore.

 

It was late at night, when Cas awoke. He didn't know exactly out of which reason.

It seemed to be in the middle of the night. The shadows in the corner of the room were dark and endless. Just a small stripe of silvery moonlight lit the floor. Cas felt Dean next to him. The hunter had flipped on his stomach, his face buried in the pillow, one arm underneath. He was sleeping quietly, his breath deep and steady. Cas looked around tiredly. He thought of going to the toilet or just fall asleep again, when he realized that someone was standing in the shadows watching him.

“Who is there?”

Cas scooted back, his hand searching for a weapon on the nightstand. But it wasn't there.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?”

Panic was rising inside him and he felt his gut twisting painfully. Was this a hallucination again. Some of his demons again?

“Don't be afraid, Castiel!”

The person came closer, stepped into the light.

“Father?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that it took so long to post the next chapter. :-)
> 
> I think there will be two or three chapters left, before the story is finished.


	15. A crack in the chassis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas had a chat with his father and some things of his past made change his view of life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit different. More dialogue, less action. But it was important for me and of course for Cas, too that he had this debate with his father.

“Hello, Castiel!”

Chuck stood at the end of the bed, his hands resting on the wooden knob of the bedpole. He smiled mildly at his son, who still stared at him, like seeing a ghost.

“This must be a hallucination,” Cas mumbled to himself. His hands was searching for Dean's and althought the hunter didn't react to the touch, the warmth of his skin and the knowledge of his presence was calming and comforting.

“No, it isn't. I'm real.” He walked around the bed, still smiling.

Then he sat down on the mattress, looking on his hands which were resting on his lap. After a few moments, he looked up to Castiel.

“I have been away for a while. But now, I think, we should talk.”

 

He snipped with his fingers and the walls of the old house disappeared into nothing. The sleeping room was gone and Cas found himself sitting on a bar stool a glass of Whiskey in front of him. The loss of his familiar room, made Cas scared. He hunted for an exit, a way to defend himself, but were he was, was just a doorless clubroom.

“Where are we? Why are we here?”

“All in good time. There is no need to hurry and to worry.” Chuck walked behind the bar up and down, filling some peanuts into a bowl and put them on the counter.

“Dean will be worried when...”

“Dean is sleeping as long as I want him to sleep.” Chuck interrupted.

He poured himself a Whiskey, walked around the counter and sat next to Cas.

“Where are we?”

Cas didn't recognize the bar and without his angelic power he couldn't sense anything helpful. There was nothing special at this place. A normal bar like the ones Cas had seen on his uncountable trips. The wallpaper was old and yellowed, framed pictures were sharing the wall with old plates. A TV was running without sound, showing a football game.

“This is the place I have spend most of the past years. It's my imagination and it might be the safest place on earth. It's my haven.”

“You mean, your stash? The place, you have hidden all the time, while heaven descended into chaos.” Cas blurred out, not believing what he was seeing. God had been at a bar, watching the world going done with amusement.

“I have to admit, that I – although I'm God – made some wrong decisions. But this is not the reason I brought you here. I'm not in focus here, but you are.”

Castiel stood up with a sigh, wandering slowly up and down the small interior silently. He felt his head pounding and some colourful dots were dancing in front of his eyes. The only thing he wanted, was being in his bed, sleeping and not being confronted with paternal excuses.

“Can you heal me?” He asked without deigning to look at his father.

“I could, but I won't.”

Chuck shook his head apologetically, before he pointed on the free stool beside him, summoning Cas to come back.

“Oh really. Great. This is obviously the retribution I've earned due to my failures. Right? Do you like it seeing me suffer?Is it a gratification to proof that the one with the crack in the chassis is failing again?”

“Castiel... I think you are on the wrong path right now?”

Chuck was still smiling gently, like the all knowing father. But Cas had enough. He didn't care, if he was the Lord, his omnipotent father, the creator of everything.

“Am I, really? I think, I am on the exact right part. Meanwhile, I know that I was always the one with the crack in the chassis. The one who did not match in the whole great plan. The figure you can use as cannon fodder. The one, who can do the dirty work and when he makes some mistakes or questiones the order, he was just reprogrammed again. Like a good and brave soldier.”

 

Castiel felt the anger rise inside him, fighting the fear and sadness down. The anger about realizing too late, that he was just the stupid sidekick.

“Is this really what you think? That you are cannon fodder? Do you really believe I restored you time after time to use you like that?” Chuck shook his head in disbelief.

“Tell me, what I should believe? You were gone for years. Leaving us behind....leaving me behind. And then, you came back without an explanation or a thank you. No... the only thing you do, is talking to your favorite. The one fallen angel that caused the apocalypse. You said sorry to him, only to him.... and every other angel.... you don't care about any of them. You don't care about me.”

Cas voice was cold and piercing. Everything could have been different and better, if the father was a father to every of his uncountable kids. He had created angels as his children and had abandon them to their own devices.

 

“You have all right to be mad at me. I was a bad father. That's an inexcusable fact.”

Chuck emptied the glass in his hand at once and refilled it with a snap of his fingers. Then he got up as well, moved over to the small stage, were a guitar was standing.

“This is the place Metatron and I met, before he was killed by my sister. I thought a while about rebuilding him...” His fingers were wandering over the wooden instrument. Cas awaited to see him grabbing it and playing rockstar. Chuck sat down on the stair of the stage instead, summoning Cas a second time to come over and sit down.

Cas hesitated, but what choice did he have? Chuck could make him stay an eternity here and the only thing Cas wanted, was going back to Dean.

“I have not refused to help you, Castiel. But in a different way as you think I would.”

“I have not asked for help,” Cas mumbled defiant, what made Chuck chuckle.

“You haven't, but Dean had. I heard him praying the last few days, as much as he hadn't in years. He is deeply worried and scared. He even was short before making a deal with Crowley to get your health back.”

“This stupid human.”

He should have known that Dean would do everything to help him. How could he have been so naive to forget about Crowley and demon deals.

“Tell me, Castiel. I mean, I already knew what is going on in your head... but I want to hear it out of your mouth and in your own words.”

Cas pressed his lips together, refusing to talk. Why should he remember all the things, all the flaws, when his father already knew them in detail?

“Cas, just talk to me. I really want to help you.”

 

“...that's it.”

Cas had talked, slowly first, but than, as if gates had been opened, the words just poured out of his mind. He had talked about the feeling of having failed, about the guilt burning in his gut. He had talked about exchange and fear, about love and loss. About the flashbacks and dreams.

Chuck had listened without interrupting him. Sometimes he had nodded or patted Cas' shoulder comfortingly.

“So...you know everything with my own words. And now?”

Cas felt exhausted. His heart was beating hard and sweat run down his spine. His lips were dry and his stomach was grumbling.

“Now, I gonna show you a few things...”

 

The world around Cas started to swirl in a familiar way. It was the feeling of time traveling. When time and space were tugging at your body like soft hands. They were traveling far into the past and when the vision became clear again, Cas found himself in a big hall. The natural walls of the hall were glowing in a golden shine and from the clouded ceiling were hanging cocoons, shimmering in silver, gold or pearl white. The air was filled with a soft humming.

“Where are we?”

Cas looked around, watching the big cocoons with awe.

“You will see it soon. Look, who is there.”

Chuck pointed with his finger to a group of persons standing near a delicate portal of gold.

“Gabriel? Lucifer?...Michael? My brothers..”, Cas breathed, excited to see them alive and irritated to see them all together.

Lucifer was smiling, joking with his brother Gabriel, while Michael was flipping through something he hold in his hands.

“They were the first angels I created.... Let's see what had happened then.”

“Lucifer is still in heaven. He...he looks so different. Not filled with anger and hate.” Castiel took a few steps closer to the group.

“Can they see me?”

Chuck shook his head, pushing him slowly closer. Then he nodded to the golden door, which was opening slowly. A second Chuck entered the room and the three archangels immediately bowed their heads.

“Father,” they whispered and the second Chuck smiled at them mildly.

Cas realized that they were watching a scene from the beginning of creation.

“The population is thriving amazingly. Thousands of angels are growing after your plan, father.”

Michael made a wide gesture with his hand, showing all of the cocoons.

The past-Chuck was looking excited and began to wander through the rows of hanging cocoons. One more perfect than the other. Some were still small, others full and filled with energy

“This one- Amariel - is in his birth-phase,” Michael explained, poking the cocoon gently. The shell was cracking and bursting and a bright energy was floating out of it, forming a newborn angel. The energetic form was changing and a young woman stood a bit helplessly in the middle of the hall.

“Wonderful work,” Chuck 2.0 smiled, but it seemed that he was a little bored.

Cas tiled his head and observed the scenery with interest. The past-Chuck was moving on and suddenly, something got his attention. He sped up, surrounding cocoon after cocoon. The Archangels followed him surprised.

“What is happening?” Cas asked his father, but he just raised a finger to his mouth, silencing his son.

 

Past-Chuck came to rest in front of a cocoon, which was hanging a little aside of the bunch of golden and silvery ones. It was smaller and the pearly shell was twinkling in a light electric blue and black. It was swinging slightly back and forth.

“Oh... one of the few defective cocoons. We must have missed it,” Michael said and wanted to cut the cocoon of the ceiling.

“No,” Chuck ordered, resting a hand on the shell. “I like it... I want to see, what will happen, when it's born.”

“Father... it will obviously not fit into your plan of perfection.”

“This, I think, it's still my decision, Lucifer.” He turned to his firstborn, a hard expression on his face.

“I like this one. It's different, but I want to see, how the angel inside will made it's way. Do no harm to him and ensure that he is doing well.”

Past-Chuck was patting the hard shell, not surprised to hear a cracking sound.

“It's too early to be born. The progress isn't finished,” Michael gasped, when he saw the cocoon leaking. A wonderful blue shining essence was dripping on the floor, forming a small sphere and then growing up to form the new born angel.

 

Chuck snap his fingers and the situation freeze, like someone had pressed the pause-button.

Castiel slowly moved closer, his gaze glued on the blueish form in front of him.

“This is... me.” His eyes widen and he felt tears forming.

“This is you, Castiel. Look how beautiful you are glowing. I saved you, although you weren't perfect. Or should I better say, because of....”

“Why? You have seen that I didn't fit into the big plan. Even Lucifer and Michael told you that I wasn't like the blueprint told me to be. You could just have destroyed me.”

The two frozen figures of Lucifer and Michael were looking with a sort of disgust at their new born brother. Only Gabriel was smiling. He stood a few steps behind his brothers, the arms crossed in front of his chest, a knowing smirk on his face.

“When I started the creation of the world, of heaven and hell, I wanted to create something perfect. I had the thought of flawless beauty, of obedience. A world were every gear fits to the other. Were everything works without pouring oil on it to avoid jarring. Way too late, I realized something. I realized that blind obedience, that perfection was boring, artificial, nothing to bear until eternity. There was this angel with the crack in the chassis, that made me realize that true perfection was being imperfect. You know, black and white, yin and yang, fire and water, light and dark.”

He had raised his hands, forming figures in the air to support his words. He was beaming like a child, who had learned how to sleep alone in the dark.

Step after step Castiel walked around the essence of himself, watching the sparkles, the soft blueish glow. Although the scenery was frozen, he could feel the humming of his grace inside this form of light. He felt a painful sting in his heart, that make him turn his head away.

“But...if you loved me because of my imperfection, why did you reprogrammed me? Why did you let it happen that Naomi and the others angels erased my thoughts, whenever I act against your plans?”

“For saving you.”

“Saving me? I don't understand.”

 

The scene around Castiel changed. The hall with it's cocoons turned into an old office room. Shelves of books were framing a small office table with a writing machine on it. Past-Chuck sat behind it, reading through a sort of script. Suddenly Naomi was entering the room. She was looking like Cas had her in mind. The hair neatly coiffed, the suit clean and ironed.

“Naomi?”

“He had done it again... acting against your will, Father. Raising questions about your orders. The whole garrison is talking about his untamed behavior.”

“You are talking about Castiel, I suppose.”

Naomi sat down on the other side of the desk, staring to her father until he put the script aside. Now, Castiel saw that he was wearing a striped bathrobe.

“Of course, I do. I can't count how often Castiel interferes into our actions. Talking about doubts, questioning you... Why is he still alive, father? He is impertinent and defiant. It is our aim to follow your rules.” She was shaking his head, taking a few deep breathes.

“Extract his memories about this. Let him forget that he was in Egypt.”

Chuck waved his hand, but Naomi stayed seated, staring at her Father in disbelief.

“Father... I truly don't want to question your orders. But can I ask for an explanation? Why shall we restore his mind again and again, instead of just erasing him completely. Getting rid of this ulcer, that is weakening the structure.” Her voice was sharp and Cas could see in her face, that she wasn't content with the decision.

Cas felt the hand of Chuck on his shoulder, squeezing it softly. He had realized that the presence of Naomi, although it was just another scene, had made him tense up.

“He is my son, Naomi. And there are many things to come. I know that a lot of his brothers and sisters don't like him. I don't know, if their reluctance is out of fear, hate or misunderstanding. Just restore his mind to safe him from his bullying siblings.” Past-Chuck nodded, grabbing the file again to continue reading. Cas could see that Naomi wasn't satisfied with God's explanation. And so was Cas.

 

“I can see it in your expression that there are still questions.”

Cas shrugged. The thought of his siblings being afraid or even jealous of him, was so unbelievable that Cas couldn't conceive it. What should be so special, that anyone could get jealous?

“You know Cas,” Chuck began, “most of the angels might be perfect. Perfect Minions as some would say. But the belief in the own perfection often implied a kind of arrogance and intolerance. The fear, that someone, who is different might doubt the perfection or might be even better. The fact that you weren't cast out, although you often had behaved like a stubborn wretch of a boy, made them suspicious. Their episterne was crumbling and someone like you are, made there tabulated live confused. I extracted your thoughts, because your time wasn't there and I just wanted you to be safe.”

Castiel frowned, tilting his head.

“But when was my time? What was the plan you had?”

Chuck grinned, as if Castiel should already know, what God's plan for him was.

“See,” he said, waving his hand and the scene changed again.

Colors faded and the world turned dark. The space around them was filled with cries and sobs. Sulfur and smoke laid in the air like a thick devilish fog. Castiel remembered that place and he would never get rid of it. The cries of lost damned souls was a sound that would follow him until the end.

 

“This is hell. Wait...Dean?”

“Your siblings fought about being chosen for that mission. Saving Dean Winchester. Saving the sword of Michael. Being Dean Winchesters angelic cronies. They all commended themselves. But none of them had what it needed to save Dean Winchester, to get his trust and his loyalty.”

The scene changed again, the hell faded as fast as they had appeared and after a short moment of traveling through space again, Cas and Chuck stood right in the bunker, next to one of the book shelves.

Dean sat at the table, flipping through a book, a beer next to him. It was a quiet scene, nearly calming. Dean seemed to be in peace for a moment.

Cas watched him and the feeling of love and affection tingled in his heart.

“You can feel it, huh. Dean is a simple man, but it is hard to earn his trust and his friendship. You need to be loyal, pure and you have to accept his point of view that family always comes first. He needed someone who was authentic, who new what doubts and flaws are. And he needed someone who... well it's cheesy... loved him. Him and his soul. Didn't thought that it would need so long for you two to realize this.”

“You planned this. You pair us off?” Castiel's mouth fell open and he didn't knew if he should laugh or punch God in the face.

“Did you know what it needed to save someone like Dean from hell? To raise him from perdition. Not just angelic power or a garrison of fighting angels. If it would be that easy, more souls would have escaped hell. Crowley wouldn't be that amused about it.... It needed two matching souls. Or a grace and a soul that fits together like key and lock. Only this fitting bond is strong enough to get someone out of hell completely.”

Chuck, was happily grinning, pointing to Dean and afterwards to Cas.

“You are open-minded, stubborn, not tamable, loyal... just like this pighead over there. Dean needs you, like you need him. Some will they, it's all about saving one human. All about saving Dean Winchester. Maybe in parts. But it is also about giving one of my children the chance to experience the essence of everything.”

The scene was changing again and the two found themselves back on the porch of the old mansion. First strips of a warm morning showed up at the horizon and early birds were singing their songs.

Chuck sat down on the stairs, leading to the garden. He stretched his legs and arms and closed his eyes for a while, relishing the cool morning air.

“Do you know, why I showed you all of this?”

Cas stayed silent, reflecting everything he had seen the past hours.

“I think so. I understand, that I'm worth and loved, but it's still so hard to accept after all that happened. I still feel doubts and sadness.”

“They always will stay and you will always consider, if the things you do are right or wrong. But you know what can help. You know, who always will help.”

Two coffee mugs appeared and Chuck handed one over to Cas, the other was put on the floor. The angel sat down, taking a sip of the hot liquid.

“Cas?” A voice echoed behind them and Chuck disappeared with a smile short before Dean stepped out on the porch.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I know that angels are multidimensional wavelenght and probably not being born like butterfly, climbing out of a cocoon.  
> PErsonally, I like this imagination.


	16. The least I can do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be the final chapter of the series.  
> Sorry, that it is probably the shortest one of all the chapters.
> 
> I'm not feeling well in the moment and just don't want to leave the story without finishing it.  
> Maybe, I write some kind of sequel or an epilogue for it, when I can concentrate on this story again.
> 
> Thanks for reading and writing comments. Thank you for every KUDO I got and hopefully get in the future

“Cas, what are you doing here?”

Dean stepped closer, a worried look an his face.

Cas grabbed the second mug and handed it over to Dean, who took it with a frown.

“I talked to God,” Cas simply said, taking a sip of his coffee and patted the free space next to him, to show Dean, that he should sit down.

“God? Was this one of the hallucinations again?”

“No, he told me you prayed for him the last few days, more frequently than normal. Obviously you prayers must have been very loud and distracting.”

He took another sip, licking up a drop of the coffee which was running down the white mug.

Dean sat down on the stairs, observing every move of Cas. The angel looked calmer, more sorted than the days before. His hair was messy and every strand was pointing into a different direction. Slowly, Dean slid his hand over to the angel, touching carefully his side.

“Are you healed?”

Cas put his mug down. His hand finds Dean's and he squeezed it softly.

“No,” he simply said. He felt Dean's body tensed and a hard expression floated on his face. Cas' could see his jaw grinding.

“No? What does that supposed to mean? He...he is god and he can heal you with a snip of his fingers. What have you done? Small talk?”

“Don't be pissed of Dean.” With his hands still together, Cas scooted over to Dean, leaning his hand against the shoulder of the hunter.

“Does it help you, when I tell you that I am feeling better?”

Dean breathed a kiss on the dark spikes of Cas' hair, burying his face into it.

“What had happened?”

“Father took me on a trip. He...he showed me the day, when I was born.” Cas chuckled, fumbling with his free hand at the fabric of Dean's sweat pants, removing some fluffs.

“Your birth?” Dean was more than surprised. He never really thought about the birth of an Angel. There was no woman to give birth, so maybe they were just there.

“Yeah. I was created in a bright blue and black cocoon...”

“Like a butterfly?” Dean interrupted. The imagination that Cas was winding out of a cocoon, wings all wet and glued together, was kind of amusing.

“A butterfly?... Yes, you could compare it with a butterfly. Father showed me, that I was different. That I had the crack in the chassis, as Naomi had said. Nevertheless, I was loved.”

“You are loved, Babe. You are a friend to Sam, a third boy to Mom and to me.” Dean lifted his hand to Cas face, turning his head towards him. “To me, you are everything.” He leaned forward until his forehead was resting against Cas'.

“Sounds cheesy and it's possibly the biggest chick flick moment ever, but I love you.”

He rubbed his nose against Cas' slowly. Closing his eyes to relish the moment of intimacy.

“Will you go for a walk with me?”

 

They slowly walked through the garden, their fingers interlaced. They didn't speak a word until they reached the old tree at the pond, where they had sat before. A few ducks were swimming on the surface and a dragonfly was hoovering over the water, shining like a gemstone in the morning light.

Cas moved close to the edge of the water, kneeling down and watching his own face in the liquid. His vessel was looking tired, the stubble of a days old beard framing his mouth and covering his chin and cheeks.

“I'm thin,” he said, touching his own face, tracing over his cheek bones to his mouth.

“You haven't ate that much the last few days. Just a bite of the sandwich I made.” Dean kneeled next to him, observing him carefully and still curious.

Cas sat down facing Dean. Softly, he grabbed the hand of the hunter, squeezing it tightly.

“I am sorry that...”

“Shhh, don't start to apologize. It was not your...”

Cas put a finger on Dean's lips, silencing him with a soft smile.

“Let me talk, please. I am sorry, that you all have to worry about me. I saw your pain and worry, but I just couldn't react. Everything was so dark and hopeless and those shadows around me were so strong that I lost the will to fight. I shouldn't have done this...” he looked to the patches an his arms, which were covering the wounds. “I was so focused on getting rid of my guilty feelings, that I lost my ability to think straight. That made me lie to you all, disappointed you all. I am sorry for that.” He lifted Dean's hand to his mouth, covering each knuckle with a kiss.

“I am just glad that I have you back, Babe. Thought I lost you...” Dean scooted closer, spreading his legs at each side of Cas' body. He then pulled him close against his chest, burying his face again into the dark hair.

“We can get through this together. You said, you are not healed. That's okay, if you just let me help. Let us help and don't hide yourself. This is nothing you have to be ashamed of. And this is nothing you have to face alone.”

Cas sighed deeply, snuggling close against his hunter's chest.

“I have learned that. You just need to remind me, Dean.”

“Oh, I will. And if I have to tell you a thousand times a day. You're not alone and we are always keep grinding. Just keep grinding!”

 

They sat in silence at the lake, just clinging to each other. Jensen had wrapped his arms around the angel and the feeling of Cas steady breath and the strong heartbeat made him feeling relaxed. Both didn't want to go back, but the constant calling of Sam and Mary made them get up. They had just crossed the forest, when they saw Sam running to them.

“Where have you been? We were looking for you and both of you were gone.”

“Long story. We should talk about it with a few pancakes and coffee?”

 

They had talked a long time about what had happened during the night. Eventually Cas felt a headache being on the horizon. The stress of the last days had been exhausting and he felt tired and uncomfortable.

While Sam and Mary stayed downstairs searching for some cases, Dean and Cas moved to the first floor.

“Do you want to shower or bath first, before laying down to sleep? Maybe it alleviated the headache and you will feel better,” Dean suggested, guiding Cas to the bathroom with the shower he had repaired so accurately.

“Yes, I could use a shower. I smell like fear and bad dreams.”

Cas sat down on the closed toilet, watching Dean letting the water into the bath. Curls of steam were waving through the air and the bathroom soon was filled with the fresh smell of citrus shower cream.

“So... water is inside. Warm, but not too hot... call me, if you need anything.”

Dean dried his hands with a towel, smiling awkwardly. He was focusing a point on the floor.

“Will you help me?”

Cas was outstretching his patched arms.

“Sure...”

The towel dropped onto the floor and Dean on his knees in front of the angel. Carefully, he detached the leucoplast and unwrapped the patches.

The sigils were still visible. Thin lines, dark red of crusted blood. Thankfully, they weren't inflamed and not as deep as they had looked the day, he had found Cas in the piano salon.

“Why are you crying?”

Dean looked up to the angel, realizing that tears were running down his own cheeks.

“I... I just remember how I found you down there.”

He wiped the tears away, unwrapping the second arm.

“It's just a memory...”, Cas whispered and Dean could feel, fingers raking through his hair. “I'm as okay as I can be right now, Dean.”

 

 

Dean didn't hove over the rest of the day. He helped Cas in the bath, washing his hair gently, cleaning the sweat and tears of his skin. While the angel was relaxing in the bath afterwards, Dean, headed to their room and opened the windows wide to let fresh air and good spirits in. He then fluffed up the pillows and blankets.

“That's looks cozy and inviting,” Cas smiled, when he entered the room.

“You can rest now and have some good dreams. Maybe...about me or so.”

“We can rest, Dean.”

Cas walked over to the bed, sat down and crawled under the thin fabric of the comforter. Then he patted the free space next to him, inviting Dean to join him.

“What are you going to do the next days,” Dean asked when Cas had snuggled up, his head resting on the hunters chest.

“I want to go to the room. Apologizing me, asking for forgiveness. Then I will close the door, maybe stonewalling the room, that they can find peace.”

“Do you think, you are ready for this?”

Cas was counting the freckles on Dean's chest absently.

“I will never be ready for this. But it is the least I can do.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Now that I have found a beta, I will edit the chapters over the next few weeks. Thanks to the lovely @swinging_fits for her help and advice
> 
> I will add some more tags when I post the next chapters, because for now I can't say where this story leads me to.
> 
> Feel free to comment. I am always excited to know what you think about my story.


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